


Becoming the Legend: Book 5 in The Bond Series

by Foreverwolf_6



Series: The Bond Series: Merlin [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Feels, Final Battle, Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), M/M, MerlinWhump, Oral Sex, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Protective Knights (Merlin), Romance, Sex, Slash, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverwolf_6/pseuds/Foreverwolf_6
Summary: Pieces move into place as the final game approaches… The future of Camelot must be assured, at all costs. Established MERTHUR. MerlinWHUMP! Protective/Caring Arthur. Slash (mostly T, some M- same as usual, lol).Final Book of the original story line, and will mark complete after this, but Book 6: Snapshots is a place where additional stories to this universe may be added at a later date, so feel free to bookmark/follow it :)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: The Bond Series: Merlin [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022760
Comments: 16
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: So, here it is folks. The final Book of the series in the original Story line! Thank you so much to all who have read, followed, favorited, and reviewed! You gave me the courage to not only keep going, but to bring it all to a close.
> 
> AN: I can't seem to help it, after the Hell I put them through in Trials of Destiny, I felt our boys deserved some fun. Slashy goodness ahead! Like... this entire chapter, lol. You can likely skip it if you're not into the graphic detail. All you're missing is some banter between Arthur and Ian.
> 
> MERLIN101010101010MERLIN

Merlin groaned as he felt his lovers' weight behind him, felt lips pressing to the scars on his back as Arthur kissed his way down his spine. He felt his King's hands roam over the back of his thighs, massaging his cheeks. Every part of him was still on fire from having just climaxed, and Arthur seemed to be enjoying how it took only the lightest touch to get a vocal response.

"You can't possibly…" Merlin gasped as he felt Arthur's re-ignited arousal against him. "Not again."

"Can't get enough of you," Arthur mumbled against the dip in his back, before returning his lips to their mission to kiss, suck and bit any inch of skin they could reach. "Never be enough."

"Gods, Arthur," Merlin moaned. "You're trying to kill me."

Arthur grinned, then dipped his head to nip at the back of his lovers thighs, delighting in the cry the bite resulted in. He worked his way down one leg, sucking hard at the back of Merlin's knee, groaning his own desire when Merlin's entire body jerked in response.

He had discovered recently that Merlin had kept a secret from him. While the younger man could only spill once before needing an extended recovery time, he did have the uncanny ability to experience a different sort of climax without needing to be hard or spilling. Arthur was absolutely fascinated with it, and thoroughly enjoyed pushing his lover beyond his limits, though always respectful of that point of sensitivity where pleasure became pain.

He nearly finished himself when Merlin cried out his name as he slipped fingers into the well worked ring of muscle, crooking them to elicit another sharp cry of pleasure as he used his fingers to massage that sweet spot deep inside. His lover needed no further preparation, but he shivered with the thrill of the cries being torn from the spent warlock.

His other hand was running up and down the spine that seemed to melt and relax under his touch. He pushed harder inside the warlock, biting down on the rounded cheek that lifted a little which put it conveniently right next to his mouth.

"Arthur!" Merlin gasped out, shaking his head as euphoria rolled through his exhausted body. He couldn't help but move his hips against the fingers inside him, urging them to move faster. The sensations were overwhelming him, creating new fires where others hadn't yet had a chance to cool. He couldn't tell if it was pleasure or pain and he didn't care. It felt incredible, and he gave himself willingly over to the ministrations of his golden King.

"Merlin," Arthur groaned as he obeyed the request of those moving hips, watching his lover give himself over entirely to the frenzy building in his body. "Gods, you're incredible." He wasn't going to last. It was too exquisite, his own muscles still quivering with the sensations of recently being filled by the younger man mixing with his thrill at his lovers wanton abandonment. He removed his fingers, grinning at the expected mewl of disappointment that came from his warlock. "Oh yes, you're ready," Arthur purred his approval.

He moved over the prone form, lining himself up. He ran one hand up the trembling side, up one arm that was positioned over the raven head, used his hand to trap both wrists. He entered, tortuously slowly, groaning when Merlin tried to raise himself to meet the entry. He allowed only enough to get a deeper purchase, then exerted his strength to keep the younger man still beneath him, taking his time in drawing out, then plunging back in.

Merlin's cries increased, and Arthur marveled at the sight of his lover being completely overwhelmed in his exhilaration, beyond thought, living only in the moment of his thrusts. He thought he'd never tire of the visual. Taking pity, he moved, curling himself around those slightly raised hips, burying himself over and over with increasing speed. His one hand never left Merlin's wrists while his other rested on the porcelain skin hip to guide him. He was careful to moderate his strength so as not to bruise either, but it was becoming more difficult.

Sweat broke out again at the effort of holding back his own release, but he wanted to hear. "One more time, Love. Oh yessss!" he hissed. "I know you can. One more," Arthur urged, speaking over the younger man's whimper of objection, changing his angle, moaning at the responding cry that came from the man trapped beneath him. Again and again he drove against that tender spot inside.

The tone of the cries changed, becoming garbled, inarticulate, completely lost to the throes of the bliss coursing through him, and Arthur drove harder, gasping out his own encouragement. He felt the body tense suddenly, thrusting itself against the King even as he dove in deeply, and Arthur cried out as muscles clamped and rippled around him. "Ah! Yes! You're so close." He moved faster, determined to drive the warlock over the edge.

When Merlin's final cry of his name was at last dragged out of him, his entire body shuddering from the force of his peak, Arthur shouted his lovers' name, emptying himself deep with one final hard push, making mini thrusts as wave after wave crashed over him until he shuddered one last time.

Panting, Arthur leaned against the spine he had been unable to resist kissing. "Beautiful," he whispered, allowing his body to follow as the boy slumped back down flat on the bed, enjoyed the quivering of muscles against his softening member, delighted in the surprised grunts of the aftershocks of pleasure worked their way through the smaller frame. He moved his hands to smooth over the strong muscles of the boys back, smiling as they jumped beneath his hand. He felt himself twitch with renewed interest even as he was still inside the heaven that was his warlock's body.

"Arthur," Merlin whimpered, having felt it too. "Please, no." He wouldn't survive having another peak forced from him, he was sure, and he knew Arthur was capable of doing it. His body seemed designed to respond to the King. He wasn't sure what had gotten into his lover this morning, but he was ready to admit defeat after nearly dying first when Arthur was in him, then when he had screamed down the castle when he spilled inside Arthur, and now this last round that left his entire body boneless and shaking with exertion. He didn't know how Arthur kept managing to peak him even once he was dry, but his King had delighted in abusing it since he'd discovered it. This was not the first session like this. His lover seemed determined to make up for lost time in as short a span as possible.

Chuckling, Arthur slowly eased himself out before slumping to his side next to the exhausted, stunning mess of his lover. He used a finger to brush aside bangs that were still rather long. Merlin opened his eyes, and Arthur shivered at the haze of pleasure that was still visible in them. He leaned in, kissing the swollen lips, using his arms to pull the boneless form to him, marveling in the feel of the boys' skin against his own.

The responding kiss was genuine and loving, but utterly exhausted. Arthur chuckled, burying his nose in the crook of Merlin's neck, inhaling the scent of the two of them on the alabaster skin. "I love you," he murmured fondly.

"Liar," Merlin mumbled sleepily against his collarbone. "Trying to kill me."

Arthur laughed, carding his hands through the sable locks, feeling it relax and ease the warlock into a deep sleep. He'd discovered how much he loved feeling the younger man fall asleep against him, completely confident he was safe from the outside world so long as he was in those arms. Merlin almost never had nightmares when he slept like this. He tightened his hold a little, content to finally have his lover back in his arms. They'd gone through a rocky time lately that had threatened this, and Arthur had sworn he'd never take this simple joy for granted again.

He turned his head when the door was forcefully pushed open, and Ian entered with a tray of food. He frowned. "Ian," he started, but the manservant shook his head.

"Sire, forgiveness, but you have achieved your goal. The entire castle is abuzz with your prowess in the chambers. Enough is enough. You have duties to attend to, and it's nearly noon. Poor Boris has been standing outside your door since dawn, having replaced your breakfast three times in an effort to keep it hot. He doesn't dare interrupt your morning… proclivities."

Arthur snorted. "Maybe you should learn from him."

Ian dipped his head agreeably. "Perhaps, Sire, and were you in your chambers, then your rules would apply. As you are not, and are in fact in _my_ Lord Merlin's chambers, _his_ rules will take precedence. As he has made no such rule against interruption, I am free to go about my duties. Your lunch, Sire. And yes, it's cold. I have other duties to attend to than to run back and forth between the kitchens while you _entertain_ yourselves." He stood straight. "I have taken the liberty of dismissing Boris to his other chores as well, Sire. If it is required, I will help you dress for your day, but it is beyond time it began."

Arthur scowled. "You've been spending too much time with Merlin," he grumbled loudly.

Ian bowed and smiled in genuine appreciation. "Thank you, Sire."

He turned to complete his duties, pointedly ignoring Arthur's stunned expression.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're avoiding it," Merlin accused, following a step behind his King, as they walked down the corridor.

"I am not!" Arthur defended. "Merlin, I have a kingdom to run. Believe it or not, that means I have actual duties to attend to."

Merlin scowled. "If you can keep me tied to the bed all morning, Arthur, you have time to deal with this!" The entire castle was gossiping of their 'extended' sessions. Arthur delighted in driving him to the edge of his sanity lately. After last week's encounter with Ian, Arthur had forced Merlin to include some new rules for the manservant. His King had become very creative, secure in the knowledge they wouldn't be interrupted.

"If you keep at it, Merlin, you'll find yourself tied to the stocks instead," Arthur threatened coldly. "Gwen has it well in hand. I have every confidence in her."

"But Gwen is not _King_ , Arthur," Merlin replied, a strong command in his voice that he rarely used on his King. He was done letting his lover run from this. Gwen had begged him to force a resolution, and he'd been inclined to agree. They'd run out of time to do it nicely. He felt sorry for Arthur, knew the man wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened, but he wasn't able to provide that luxury. "It is _your_ duty to pronounce judgement, _not_ hers."

"Enough!"

"I've accepted their request as justice, why can't you?"

"Because, _Mer_ lin, you'd forgive the devil himself as long as _you_ were the only one who got hurt. Tell me, would you feel the same had it been Gwen? Or me?" The silence from behind him made the King nod. "I thought so. As of the signing of that treaty, he committed an act of treason, Merlin. By Camelot Laws, the sentence for such an offense is death. If they won't let me kill him, then justice has not been served, regardless of whether _you_ forgive him or not!"

"I never said I forgave him, Arthur. But there is so much more than just our personal feelings to consider here! You are duty bound to accept this for the good of your people!"

Arthur whirled on him then, stopping, throwing up a warning finger. " _One_ more word, Merlin…"

"This isn't like Beonin, Arthur," Merlin dared to interrupt, deliberately ignoring the finger in his face. "There is war at stake." His expression softened, trying to diffuse the temper he could see in his lover. "I understand how you feel…"

"You _don't_!" Arthur yelled, finally letting go of the rage he'd barely been containing since Merlin had insisted on starting this discussion. "You really, _really_ , don't."

"Then tell me!" Merlin urged.

"Do you understand how much that man has cost me?" Arthur swore, ramming his fist sideways into the wall next to him in anger and frustration. Impressively it took a small chip out of the old stone. "One action, one stone thrown into a pond, caused rippling effects for months." Arthur raised his hands to cup Merlin's face, his thumbs tracing the younger man's jawline as desperate ice blue met azure. "He almost killed you, and through those actions, nearly ended us. I almost lost you so many times in the events that followed." He leaned his forehead against the younger man's, knowing and not caring the warlock could feel him trembling in fear with the very thought, his anger having melted away when he thought of the last six months. Six months of living constantly terrified he'd lose the only thing that really mattered to him. And now they expected him to stand there and act like it was nothing, an innocent mistake. "I can't do it," he swallowed. "So close to losing you..."

"But you didn't, Arthur," Merlin whispered reassuringly, finally beginning to understand what had been driving his lovers inexhaustible passions of late. "I'm right here. You've lost nothing, and we've gained _so_ much." Merlin leaned in, capturing his King's lips, offering proof with everything he was as his tongue begged for entry. He sighed in relief when it was allowed, when he felt the returning pressure increase, demanding, commanding more from him then he'd originally offered. "Open the Bond, Arthur, _feel_ how much we've gained," he invited.

He let the King's arm wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to his lover's body, and he melted into it. Felt Arthur instinctively draw on the unique connection they shared, opening himself to its inspection, hiding nothing of his love, his dedication, his recent certainty that this, that _they_ , were _right_ , from it. Let Arthur feel his body pressed to him, alive, and slightly breathless with the desperate kisses. He knew he needed to end it, that they were standing in the middle of a corridor anyone could walk along, and he bit down lightly on his King's bottom lip, pulling back even as Arthur gave a frustrated growl, allowing Merlin to pull away slightly, but still holding him tightly.

"Merlin…" Arthur shook his head in awe. The emotions coming through the Bond were pure, genuine, and as open as he had ever felt them. Nothing was shielded from him. He shivered at the intensity of them. Merlin wasn't always the best at verbalizing his feelings, but Arthur could feel his lover inhale him with every breath, feel how much he relied on him, wanted him, loved him. It was incredible to know those feelings were there.

"He was just one more challenge for us, Arthur. And the fact that we're here, doing this, means we won, and he failed. Surely there's punishment enough in having to live with that knowledge?" Merlin murmured.

Arthur took a deep breath, letting himself slip out of the Bond regretfully. "I wonder if they knew," he questioned quietly, opening his eyes. "For all the times I've been told to be _your_ strength, I wonder if they knew how much _you'd_ be _mine_."

Merlin smiled. "One coin, two sides."

_**MERLIN10101010101011010MERLIN** _

Gwen smiled as she motioned Durstan away. Once they were well clear of the hearing range of the two men, she grinned triumphantly. "See? I told you Merlin could make him do it."

Durstan, however, looked less than pleased. "I wasn't aware how much my brother's actions had affected the King. I knew we had a great debt to Emrys, but…" he shook his head. "The Victim Rights take in only the intended victim. I wish there was a way to take in the debt to Arthur as well."

"Durstan," Gwen laid a hand on his arm. "The terms of Justice we worked out are sufficient to keep both Kingdoms at peace, and are fair. Arthur just tends to take anything to do with Merlin a little personally. He's overprotective like that, and always has been, even _before_ they were a couple. Believe me, if Bursus had succeeded, _nothing_ would- or could- have stopped Arthur from killing him long before now. As it was, he failed, and we need to be grateful for that, for the war his failure spared both our peoples. The King in Arthur knows that. The Lover in him will never forgive, but will learn to accept."

"You're very wise, My Lady."

Gwen laughed, shaking her head. "No, I just know _them_. If only the rest of the world were as predictable as to the lengths those two will go for each other. At least you can look at Arthur and guess how scary he can be. Merlin can be terrifying in protecting his King; worse so because you don't expect it of him."

Durstan nodded and they walked in comfortable silence for a while. He looked down at their joined arms and shook his head sadly. "I almost regret that my brother will be here in merely a day, and that will mean my leaving. I have enjoyed being your 'hostage', My Lady."

"You will always be welcome at Camelot, My Prince."

Durstan laughed, shaking his head. "Mother is furious Arthur made me keep my title. She feels indebted to him now. When I swore that oath, I swore over everything. By rights, Arthur is not merely Liege, but is a Prince of Dumnonia. Given the Victim Rights, she now feels even more in debt for this whole thing to have cost her so little, while she gained so much. Bad business, you understand, to be forced to accept charity in a trade agreement."

"Arthur can be stubborn, but I think he feels he has enough responsibilities on his plate. He didn't want yours as well. I mean no offense, but nor was he willing to marry your sister," Gwen laughed.

"Do you believe he'll _ever_ marry?"

Gwen sighed. "He knows his duties. Knows an heir at some point will be required. As I am barren, and am not of royal blood, I can't give him one even if he asked. It's why he hasn't ever seriously considered officially marrying me, who would happily stand aside for his relationship with Merlin. He once confessed he was tempted to do it anyway, just to take the pressure off, though I'm sure he was joking. As to what he'll actually do? I don't know," Gwen answered honestly. Then she chuckled. "He somehow always manages to find a way, though."

"He has been rather fortunately favored by Fate and Destiny alike, it seems," Durstan replied. "I'm sure when the time is right, the answer will present itself."

"I agree, and it's worked to my diplomatic advantage to have him free," Gwen laughed, sharing the secret with the Prince. "This way everyone thinks they have a chance, and the more powerful he, and Camelot gets, the more the pot is sweetened," she giggled. "I _almost_ feel terrible for using him like that."

"I'm going to miss your laugh and your cunning mind, Your Grace. If tonight is to be our last, Gwen, then let's spend it dancing! I have discovered you have several talented musicians among your staff. We'll invite the Knights, beg Arthur to open some casks, and have a night of merry making!"

Gwen laughed as he dragged her down the hall, and she knew she'd miss him terribly.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur stood rigidly in front of his throne as they waited. He'd summoned every member of the court, and all the Knights, to bear witness to this. Guards lined a small walkway from the door to the front of the room. Gwen stood by his right side, her face as solemn as his own, and Merlin on his left.

It was quite a display, really. Gwen and Merlin were in their finest clothes- both dressed in navy blue today, he had been amused to see- and all the signs of rank they could find. He'd been pleased to see his lover wearing the sapphire circlet along with his sapphire cuffs- very visible in the way Merlin held his gloved hands together in front of him- and the navy cloak with his Crest embroidered in silver. Arthur was in full chainmaille and armor, including his sword, as well as wearing the crown and the heavy red velvet cloak with Camelot's crest brightly embroidered in gold thread. Gwen's own cape was a light blue silk, attached to the shoulders of her gown by elegant links of thin silver chain, that flowed gracefully around her body. He had to admit, there was something in the display of the two stunning people standing beside him, soft beauty to offset the hardness of himself. Though if anyone ever made the mistake of thinking either creature soft, they'd find out differently rather quickly.

Prince Durstan was standing below them, also wearing his finest and a grim expression. He had, at first, refused to wear his sword in the King's presence, but Arthur had insisted. If they had to go through with this ridiculous display and ritual, he very much wanted Bursus to see that he had failed on _all_ counts. That Merlin was still alive, and that Camelot still had trust in their newest allies.

Durstan had spent a good deal of time with Arthur the day before, going over the wording. For his blasphemy against the Following, Bursus had been stripped of all his titles and estates- all of which now belonged to Merlin, as his intended victim- and had been banished from Dumnonia on pain of death should he ever return to their lands, or the lands of their allies. He could claim no kinship with Dumnonia at all, and would be shunned should he ever encounter any of their people outside of their lands. He was in Camelot to make reparations to his victim, and have the same rules confirmed. Arthur felt it wasn't nearly enough and the whole thing aggravated him. But it wouldn't stop him from putting on a proper show.

The Banishment had provided its own opportunity for justice. And if Gwaine had happened to hear the man would no longer officially 'exist' after the ceremony, then it was of no concern to Arthur. Gwaine, who was almost as furious as the King himself. Gwaine, who would stop at nothing to protect his first real friend. Arthur had once called him Merlin's most dangerous hound. The rogue had no trouble and no twinge of conscience with his building reputation as Merlin's secret personal assassin. While Arthur never let him work outside the boundaries of justice, he _did_ often allow him to work outside the confines of the letter of the law, a fact known only between the two of them.

All in all, the entire thing felt more like a ritual than a judgment, but Gwen had stressed these were the terms for peace. He couldn't stop himself from glancing at Merlin, knowing the warlock wasn't aware of half of what was about to happen. He'd been rather preoccupied in keeping Arthur calm enough not to chop off the man's head as soon as he saw him. Which had, he admitted, not been entirely effective until Gwaine had decided to make sure he understood _in full_ what the details of this ritual were.

The doors opened at last to reveal a contingent of Knights, both his own and those of Dumnonia, escorting a tall man with dark hair, and brown eyes. Bursus looked similar to his brother, but lacked the jovial mirth that seemed to surround the younger royal. As an Elder Prince, but neither First nor Last Born, his primary responsibilities had been as a religious leader, which had made his sins so much worse to the people of Dumnonia. Those responsibilities would now fall to Durstan's younger sister, Elloise.

Despite being in chains, which looked odd since the Elder Prince was in full regalia, the man walked proudly with his years of authority. There was nothing about him to suggest he was regretful of what he'd done, which rankled Arthur to no end. The dignity of his rank had not left him, nor had the straight, confident walk of the solider he was.

The Knights stopped in front of them, Dumnonia's bowing once to Durstan, then again to Arthur as their Liege Lord- the title he had accepted in order to allow Durstan to keep his title of Prince. When they turned to Merlin, their fists banged their chests as they sang out in unison, "Honor to Serve, Great One."

The Camelot Knights, apparently deciding Camelot's respect was no less than Dumnonia's, went to one knee in front of Arthur, rose, bowed to their Queen Regent, and then to Arthur's delight and Merlin's shock, they bowed just as deeply to their Court Sorcerer and Prince Consort!

"For the love of Camelot," came out as if they'd practiced it! Perhaps he'd made a mistake in letting Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine, along with a few younger knights, be in charge of the escort! They were playing right into the ridiculous level of ceremony. What could have possessed them?

Arthur decided he was going to have to have words with Leon, since the Knight had been leading this and looked entirely too smug when he straightened from his last bow. While certainly not required, and not a part of the ritual, Arthur thought he detected an added element of pride from all the Knights in the escort, perhaps a small show of competition. Maybe, he thought, some gentle words. Nothing too harsh when the Dumnonia Knights looked unsettled at having been at the very least well matched in ceremonial groveling.

"Elder Prince Bursus of Dumnonia, Bearer of the Staff of Wisdom, Spiritual Leader of the Following, Battleguard of Ships, you stand accused of an attempt on the life of a member of Camelot's Court. Do you deny this accusation?" Durstan's voice rang out in the room.

"I do not, Prince Durstan. I accept in full the consequences of my crime, and of my failure," Bursus came back with. Arthur had confessed to being surprised at this. Apparently while he did not regret his actions, Bursus would not forget who and what he was. Durstan had been shocked at the idea that the Elder Prince would even consider sinking so low as to lying about actions he had already been proven guilty of, as well as confessed to. Even in exile, his honor would allow for nothing less than full culpability. Crimes in Dumnonia were apparently expected to be committed with conviction- and therefore the willingness to take responsibility- or not committed at all. Still, Arthur hadn't believed it until he was witness to it.

It was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to kill the man for what he'd done, but he had to admit, there was a very small part of him that flared respect for the man.

"See, then, your intended victim," Durstan took a step aside, waving his hand toward Merlin. "See that he lives still, and offer proof by giving him name. Do you deny his Victim Rights?"

"I see my intended victim, name him Emrys, and see my failure to complete my task" Bursus replied evenly. "I do not deny his Victim Rights."

"The bestow them, as is your responsibility," Durstan commanded, drawing his sword, and taking up a defensive stance next to Merlin. Arthur frowned. When it had been explained to him, he hadn't understood that the man would be permitted close to his lover! His hand gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.

Thankfully, Gwaine didn't hesitate, moving to draw his own sword and take a defensive stance on Merlin's other side, across from Durstan. He pointedly ignored the quick glare Merlin shot him. Arthur decided then that perhaps no words at all were needed. In fact, he'd pay for the night's tavern bill!

Bursus frowned, unhappy with Gwaine's improvisation, but moved forward slowly, taking off his circlet of gold and black onyx stones, and undoing his cloak which bore the crest of the royal line of Dumnonia, a ship in the background with a sword and staff crossed in front of it. He stood before Merlin, carefully folding the cloak, and laying the circlet on it. He pressed the items to his lips in a show of reverence for them. Then he knelt in front of the younger man, bowing his head, and holding the items up to him.

Merlin flashed a panicked glance at Durstan, who nodded at him to take them. He did so slowly, almost startling when Bursus began to speak.

"As are your Victim Rights, I bestow upon you, Court Sorcerer and Prince Consort Merlin of Camelot, Dragon Lord of the Great Dragon, Lord of Ealdor of Camelot, Duke of De Bois, and a First Knight of Albion, all my worldly possessions, ranks and titles. May those present bear witness and know it as truth forevermore that I extend to you the Rights of the Royal Line, and crown you now an Elder Prince of Dumnonia, Bearer of the Staff of Wisdom, Battleguard of Ships. May you reign long, may your ships be swift, and may the Spirits of the Seas aim your trade true," Bursus intoned, leaning forward to kiss the floor at Merlin's feet. He rose then, backing away slowly from Merlin, before kneeling again.

Durstan sheathed his sword, then moved to kneel down next his brother, facing the young warlock. Every Knight of Dumnonia dropped to their knees as well. "Hail the Elder Prince," they called out.

Durstan rose with his Knights once the hail was completed, and turned to Arthur.

"Does the King of Camelot accept and witness the Exchange of Rights under the Law of Dumnonia?"

Arthur nodded, gritting his teeth. "I witness and accept."

Durstan turned to Gwen. "Does the Queen Regent of Camelot accept and witness the Exchange of Rights under the Law of Dumnonia?"

"I witness and accept," Gwen answered calmly.

"Then speak to the low man you see before you, and let him know clearly his permissions whenever he passes Camelot territory, Allies, and People."

Arthur felt his knuckles were going to break soon if he didn't find a way to let go of the hilt. He had to remind himself that this was for peace. "Bursus, you are hereby banished from Camelot. You are forbidden to seek succor from the now and future allies of Camelot. Our people will not See you, will not aide you. Hunting on these lands will result in your immediate death. Future attempts on the life of any citizen of Camelot or her allies will also result in your immediate execution. Do you hear and accept these terms?"

Bursus sat up, then leaned forward again, once more kissing the floor. "As a low man, I hear and accept these terms."

Durstan knelt then, kissing the top of his brother's head. "Good bye, brother. I pray for your soul and know I mourn the loss of the easy youth I once knew. May the blessed light of Emrys remain with you on the difficult journey ahead," he whispered. Then stood, turning his back on the kneeling man.

"Hail the Fallen Prince, Exile of Dumnonia. May the winds guide your steps ever toward peace and redemption," he intoned.

"Hail the Fallen Prince!"

Arthur hated this part, but understood it was the final act of the ritual. He cast a quick glance at Gwaine, saw the Knight nod mutely, and then slowly, deliberately turned his back on the kneeling man. Gwen and Merlin both followed him, then the Knights, and eventually the entire court did so as well. They hadn't been informed, but the meaning of the ritual was clear enough.

Arthur listened as Bursus stood, striped his fine clothing off, and walked out in his small clothes. Normally he would have walked away naked, but Arthur felt that was a bit much for the ladies of the court. Durstan had compromised in this one area, though he'd been adamant about the rest of the ritual.

Still, Arthur was pleased when he turned back around to find both the exiled man and Gwaine missing. He almost felt bad for the grieved expression on Durstan's face when the Prince also took notice of the Knight's absence. The man was no fool. He took a deep breath, holding up his hands.

"Thank you all for bearing witness to these proceedings. Let it be written, and posted, the sentence that was passed here today," he concluded with Camelot's normal dismissal. He was pleased when the room started to empty, though as expected, not silently. This would be gossip for years to come, he was sure.

Merlin flew from his position, grabbing Durstan by the arm. "What _was_ that?" he demanded, thankfully keeping his voice low.

Durstan cocked his head at him, confused. "The Banishment Ritual was agreed upon by both sides, your Highness."

"Don't 'your highness' me, Durstan. 'Great One' was bad enough!" Merlin hissed. "You're a Prince for heaven's sake!"

Gwen chuckled as she came over. "So are you, now." She dipped a quick curtsy to him.

Merlin dropped the effects as if they'd stung him, backing away from them. "What?!"

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. "There'll be no living with him now," he moaned in jest. Gwen pretended to look sympathetic when she patted his arm. "Imagine, _Mer_ lin, actual royalty!"

Merlin was shaking his head. "Oh, no, no, no! The ridiculous titles Arthur has attached to my name were bad enough! Take them back!" he demanded stubbornly. "No one asked me about any of this!"

Durstan stared at him in wonder, truly curious as to his reaction. "It's done, your Highness, and you never had a choice. Victim Rights are in place to discourage such acts, as any who undertake such an action understand the cost of failure is the loss of everything- including identity. Bursus is the first royal family member to risk it in over two hundred years."

He shook his head sadly, then grinned. "As an Elder Prince, and I merely a lowly Third Prince, it is my duty to address even family- for we are Brothers, now- with the proper respect. And I wouldn't bash that circlet around too much. If you ever visit Dumnonia you'll be expected to have those Onyx stones," he said as he took off his own to point out his matching ones, though he had three where the circlet on the floor had only two, though they were larger than Durstan's. "You may melt the gold, but the Onyx stones are from ancient times, and must be present at any time you would be expected to display rank."

While he was perfectly serious, Merlin was beginning to think the Prince found this all very amusing. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern if that thought was true. It was difficult to tell. Durstan often seemed to find almost everything amusing, though there did seem to be a hint of sadness in those dark eyes.

Arthur bent down and picked up the fallen object, examining it. "I'll have them added to his sapphire circlet. I like him in the silver better. Perhaps the two onyx in the center, with the sapphires on either side, dragons' tails curled around them? What do you think, Gwen?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Oh definitely! But what do we do about that crest?"

"It must be displayed as well," Durstan added.

Arthur scrunched his face. "Maybe add it to his cloaks? But make sure his own is bigger and above the other, of course. His service to Camelot first must be clear."

"Perhaps then, embroider the Ship on his gloves, since he seems intent to always wear them now."

"Excellent idea, my Lady!" Durstan agreed. "And I rather think our style of boot would look very fetching on those calves. He would not be the first to display the crest on the knee cover, so it is fashionable enough."

Merlin glared at them all. "This is not funny. None of _you_ ," he pointed at them, "are funny!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Merlin!" Gwaine called out as the younger man went to walk past their group. "Join us! We're having a friendly debate. That is, if you're not too busy being Princely," he teased, managing a quick bow even as he walked.

Merlin slowed, shaking his head at his friends as he took up space behind the two. "Don't either of you start! It's bad enough half the servant's have caught on to it- I personally blame Ian for that."

"Aw, come on, Merlin, you know we'd never treat you differently!" Elyan chuckled.

"So what's the debate about? Women, obviously." As if Gwaine and Elyan would ever debate anything else! Though from the deep blush that took in Elyan's face and neck despite his dark skin, the younger knight was losing said argument.

"See? Even _he_ knows!" Gwaine laughed, punching Elyan in the shoulder. "She's a pretty one, lad! Sooner or later, you're going to have to make her an honest woman!" If possible, the younger Knight's blush deepened even further. Merlin decided to take pity on him, since he happened to know for a fact the young woman Elyan was courting would have the Knight's guts for garters if he even _considered_ asking her before she gave him her permission.

Merlin snorted. "And when do _you_ plan on making, what's her name? Sora? An honest woman?"

Gwaine, turning around to walk backwards to face Merlin, grinned. "I know how to pick them better, mate. Sora's already married!" He turned back to shove at Elyan again.

Elyan shook his head. "You're going to get caught one of these days."

"Never. The ladies like me too much to out me."

"Someday, Gwaine, someone is going to catch you, trap you, and force you to marry," Elyan predicted.

"Me? What about his Highness here? A genuine Prince now, no reason why Consort can't become husband!" Gwaine pointed out, turning to look behind him, frowning when he saw Merlin leaning sideways against a wall, an arm wrapped around his stomach, his expression dazed. "Mate, I was just kidding."

Elyan moved back toward Merlin, frowning. "Merlin? Are you alright?" The warlock was alarmingly pale and sweating.

Gwaine reached out just in time for Merlin's knees to buckle, caught him, and eased him to the ground. "Elyan, Arthur's in the Council Chambers…" he trailed off as the younger knight immediately took off running. "Merlin, what?" he took the warlock's hand from where it had been clamped to his stomach. He cursed when he saw the glisten of blood on the black leather of the glove.

"Nemeth… "

"Shhhh, rest easy, mate," Gwaine soothed, tightening his hold when he felt the warlock arch against him, a cry of pain on his lips. He felt a wetness beneath the hand that was holding Merlin's upper arm and lifted it, surprised to find more blood on it. "What the hell is happening to you?"

_**MERLIN10101010101010101010MERLIN** _

"Arthur!" Elyan cried as he raced through the doors, skidding to a stop when he saw the group of men seated around the table.

Arthur sighed, putting down the quill. "Elyan, I'm in the middle of a Council Meeting. Can't this wait?"

"It's Merlin, Arthur. He was fine one minute, joking with us, then he just collapsed."

Arthur ran, ignoring the disgruntled vocals of the Council, barely noticing they rose to follow him.

_**MERLIN10101010101010101010MERLIN** _

Arthur skidded to a halt, going to his knees in front of the two men on the ground. Gwaine was holding a panting, semi-conscious Merlin in front of him against his chest.

"What's happened?" Arthur demanded, putting a hand to Merlin's throat. His heartbeat was too fast, but strong.

Gwaine shook his head. "I don't know. He's bleeding pretty bad, but they just keep appearing out of nowhere." Arthur was about to ask what the Knight meant by 'they', but then his eyes took in the various patches are darkened material.

Arthur frowned, then used his hand to lightly slap the warlock's cheek to bring him around. "Merlin!"

Merlin's eyes flew open- the magical gold bright- and he reached out to grab his lover's arm. "Arthur! Nemeth needs us," Merlin gasped urgently.

Arthur's frown deepened. "How do you know?"

"The last time Mithian was here, I gave her a charm she could use to call me at any time. She's using it!" Merlin cried out then, leaning forward and reaching a hand toward his leg. Arthur followed, and saw a gash had appeared.

Arthur took a closer look at all the wounds, wincing when he saw them, but he was experienced enough to recognize them. "These are battle wounds. Nemeth is under attack." He looked at Elyan. "We ride in an hour with two dozen Knights. Elyan, I want you, Percival and Gwaine to stay here to protect Gwen. Then I want a regiment ready to follow us as soon as possible. Go, get them ready!"

"But Sire, surely you don't mean to assign resources to this… _ridiculous_ display?" Lord Liam questioned in derision. "That's an expensive endeavor on the word of your-"

"Careful, mate," Gwaine growled in warning, cutting off the word the Lord had been about to use. He enjoyed the uneasy looks directed at him by the entire Council. They'd never liked him, in large part because they were never quite sure where his loyalties lie. They knew without doubt he was dangerous, the why barely whispered in rumor, though the 'to whom' remained largely unspoken. "The King will have your head for that word, and if he doesn't, _I'll_ take it."

Perhaps even more poignant than their uncertainty of him, Arthur's distinct lack of response- in either confirmation or denial- to Gwaine's threat had them hastily rewording their objections.

"Sire, please reconsider," another Lord from the back put out. "While the Prince Consort is highly respected in magical matters, surely this requires further investigation before committing the men to-"

"The Council is dismissed," Arthur ground out, interrupting. Gwaine was right. If he didn't shut them up now, heads _would_ roll! He focused back on his lover.

"Merlin, hey, come on, I need you to focus," Arthur urged, giving another tap. "Are these wounds dangerous to you?"

The warlock shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Charm connects us, but only works if she's alive." He winced. "Sorry. It was new magic. A new spell. I don't... I don't know..."

"Merlin! Stay with me!" the King ordered sharply, grabbing his lover's face as it started to roll away from him. "What exactly is happening? Is she experiencing these wounds?" Arthur demanded.

"They will bounce between us, depending on severity. Not enough to kill me, but enough to keep her alive." Merlin jerked, grabbing his arm, biting his bottom lip and grunting in pain. He licked his lips, forcing himself to continue. "Gaius warned me, said it could be unpredictable because she's not magic. But he... he helped me cast... wouldn't have... if too stupid..."

"You're barely staying conscious, Merlin," Arthur pointed out. "That's definitely your level of stupid. How long will this last?"

"Until we're together. I'm fine, Arthur. I'm just... just tired..." His eyes fluttered closed again, his head lolling back on Gwaine's shoulder. Arthur sighed in frustration, reading between the lines just fine. The wounds themselves may not be fatal, but the blood loss and strain of the complicated spell would still take its toll.

He looked at Gwaine, nodding. "Take him to his chambers and bind these. We'll let him rest as long as we can."

Gwaine frowned. "You don't mean to take him with you? Not like this?"

"You heard him. This will continue until they're together. I'm willing to give Gaius the benefit of the doubt that this won't kill him, but I'd prefer to get them in the same room sooner rather than later. We have no idea what will happen if she takes a fatal blow while they're connected."

Arthur took a deep breath as he stood, watching Gwaine take the warlock. He'd have to get word to Ian to prepare Merlin's things. He ran a hand over his face. This couldn't have come at a worse time. It was obvious Nemeth was under attack, and he had to wonder if they'd reach it in time to be of any help. But King Bayard of Mercia was also deathly ill, and it was rumored that his intended heir, his second son, was not as pleased with the continued tenuous alliance with Camelot. He wished with all his heart that Artemis was here, that he hadn't had to go to the border village to look after an unknown outbreak. He would have valued his advice.

There was always, too, the ominous threat of Morgana's retaliation. Merlin had assured him she would need time to recover as well, since the ancient powers that he'd channeled had also used her magic. But that had been seven months ago. The last time she'd been quiet for a year, she'd gone back in time to kill a young Merlin.

He shivered as he considered what she could do with another year. Poor timing indeed!

_**MERLIN10101010101111010101010MERLIN** _

Ian frowned when he saw the King quietly enter his Lord's chambers. He knew what the arrival meant, knew what the frustrated expression on the King's face meant.

"It's time, isn't it, Sire?" he sighed, rising from his position on the edge of the bed, moving to throw away the bloodied bandages he'd just changed.

"I'm afraid so. How is he?"

"Sleeping deeply, Sire, whether because of the spell, or the wounds, I couldn't say. Nothing I've done has woken him."

"I've given him as long as I can. Everything is ready, the Knights have already left. Have you gotten his things ready?"

" _Our_ things are ready to go. I will go prepare our horses, Sire," Ian answered as he turned to leave.

Arthur shook his head. "Ian, I thank you for your loyalty to him, again. Gwen did right by selecting you. But we're riding into battle. It's too dangerous for you to come."

Ian stiffened. "If these wounds continue to appear, your Majesty, and if they're left uncared for, then my Lord Merlin will bleed out long before we reach Nemeth. I am not him, Sire, to ride into battle with you. I'm not nearly so brave. But I have some skill in dressing wounds on the field which may prove useful, and I can tend him as we travel." He bowed. "I _am_ coming, Sire."

Arthur smiled. "Merlin's going to kill me." He nodded. "If you're sure you understand the risks?"

"I do, Sire. More importantly, I understand the risks to him if I don't go."

_**MERLIN101010101010101010101010101010MERLIN** _

By the time they caught up with the Knights, Arthur was thankful to see that they'd already set up a camp. There were three fires already going, with a fourth off to the side. Arthur scowled when he saw his tent had also already been set up. It was rare for him to use it on anything less than extended campaigns. As they rode into camp, he saw several servants moving among the Knights.

He heeled his horse as Leon walked up to join him. "Nicely done, Sir Leon," Arthur allowed. "Though I'm hoping we'll not be gone for as long as it appears everyone thinks we will."

Leon had the grace to blush. "I'll confess, Sire, that it was my fault. When I ordered your tent prepared, it apparently sent that message to the other Knights, especially when your orders for the army to follow as soon as possible came through. And then Ian was seen making preparations to go with us. I did nothing to correct the idea."

"I could have slept a few nights on the ground, Leon," Arthur sighed.

"Forgive me, Arthur." Leon nodded toward the warlock deeply asleep against Arthur's chest. "But a cot would be better for _him_. Gwaine told me the wounds are magical, but I didn't want to run the risk that they could get infected. From the looks of him, he'll need the best rest he can get, which generally doesn't include sleeping on a rock."

And just like that, Arthur softened, understanding. He smiled. "I am grateful, Leon. Truly."

He tried to shake the warlock awake, but the boy didn't so much as stir. Arthur worried for a moment, since Merlin had been in and out of consciousness for hours. A quick scan with the Bond reassured him that the sorcerer had retreated to preserve his strength, his magic protecting him as much as it could by offering a healing sleep. He wouldn't wake until some of his energy reserves had been replenished. Sighing in relief, Arthur started to shift him to get them off the horse.

"I can take him, Sire. You need to get some food, and fill in the men. I'll join you as soon as I have him settled," Leon offered.

Arthur helped ease the warlock into the arms of his second in command, his heart swelling when he took note of the gentle care the Knight was taking as he moved toward Arthur's tent. He should have seen off the departure, but he'd been too busy making sure Gwen was up to date on the Bayard situation. If he hadn't been, he would have seen the small supply wagon that went with the party. His own fault, he thought, for not paying closer attention.

He sighed, handing the reins to Ian- it didn't surprise him that everyone, including Merlin's manservant, assumed Ian would be taking care of him as well- and heading toward a hot meal he was very much looking forward to. As for filling in the men, he wished he had more to go on. As much as he hated to see his lover suffer, he'd been concerned that the battle wounds had started to come much slower. Since Merlin had explained that the wounds would bounce between them pending severity, he worried about Mithian. Unexpectedly, some of the wounds, received earlier, had already faded to scar. The warlock had been at a loss to explain it, insisting that he hadn't cast any healing magic. Not for the first time, Arthur wishes Gaius was still with them. What had the old physician been thinking when he let Merlin do this?

Even more concerning, however, was the deep sense of urgency that was coming from the Bond in such strength that it wasn't even waiting for Arthur to call it. For every hour that passed, he felt time was getting away from them.

_**MERLIN101011010101010110110MERLIN** _

Arthur sighed in relief when he entered his tent. Merlin was sitting in a simple chair, eating some stew that Ian had brought him, as the servant bound his shoulder. Arthur could see fresh blood on it. There was a wash bowl on the small table, but Arthur was pleased it wasn't nearly as bloody as the one in Merlin's chambers had been.

"An arrow wound, Sire," Ian informed him, seeing him looking. He tied the last knot, patting his master's uninjured shoulder as an apology when he winced. "Entry from the back. It's possible Princess Mithian was either trying to retreat, or they're now facing forces on two fronts."

"Thank you, Ian. Get some rest. It'll be an early start in the morning."

Arthur waited for the servant to leave, then sat himself down across from the warlock. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pleased to see him eating and a somewhat healthier flush to his skin.

"I'm all right, Arthur," Merlin reassured with a smile. "Some of the older wounds have faded on their own. I have no reason not to think they all will eventually, though I wish I knew the cause. They're supposed to be dividing themselves to achieve the goal of making sure we both stay alive."

"Odd for Gaius to support something he knew so little about." Arthur chuckled. "Though Gaius knew a great deal about a lot of things and told very little. It's possible he assumed he'd be here to explain it." He sighed tiredly. It was far too late to try and second guess the old man's reasoning. He wouldn't have done it all if he hadn't been convinced the result was worth the risks.

"I wish I knew more, Arthur, but all I know is what I've already told you, and it's presenting some surprises even for me." Merlin frowned, looking to the wound on his shoulder. "Mithian is tough, Arthur, but she's not a battle queen. Not like Annis. I can't imagine what could have happened to put her directly in the fighting."

Arthur nodded. "I've been thinking of that, too. King Rodor is a strong solider. He fought closely with my Father when they were younger. I dread to think what might have happened to him for her to even think of taking part in the battle."

"Whatever happened, it must have come up quickly. I would have felt the call as soon as she used it. To discover it and take a wound at the same time..." Merlin shook his head. "She must have been desperate."

"I've gone over and over her letters in my mind, searching for clues that something was amiss, but nothing seems to jump out at me. She seemed happy. I'll confess it's been months since her last, though."

Merlin smiled, nodded. "In mine, too. She told me she was pregnant again."

"She never told me that!" Arthur pouted. "If I didn't know better, Merlin, I'd be jealous. The two of you are as thick as thieves whenever she visits!" Arthur grumbled. Then he sighed, shaking his head. "I can't begin to consider how bad the situation is for her to risk losing a third child by going into battle. Losing the first two nearly drove her mad with grief."

"I wish I could sense it, but I can't. Only her," Merlin answered in concern.

Arthur reached out, took his lover's gloved hand in his own, squeezing it in the only reassurance he could give. "We're both exhausted. Let's get some rest. We know she's still alive, and for now, that's the most we can hope for until we know more. We're going to ride hard tomorrow."

"By the way, Arthur, when this is all over, remind me to yell at you for letting Ian come. I've been riding with you for years, I don't need a mother hen now," Merlin grumbled, standing.

Arthur laughed, and informed his warlock of how little choice Ian had given his King in the matter.


	5. Chapter 5

"Arthur, stop!" Merlin called out, his horse only a step behind his Kings. "She's not in the city!"

"Gods be thanked for that," Arthur breathed. They could see the city beyond the hill. Smoke rose from it, and huge fires could be seen even at their distance. The city had obviously been under attack and not for the first time he was grateful for the warlock's connection to the Princess to reassure him she was alive.

"She's somewhere to the east. I can lead us there."

Arthur glanced at his lover. It had been over a day since the last injury had appeared on his lover, and he had hoped that meant the battle was over and she had prevailed. It was obvious now, however, that Nemeth had fallen to its enemies. He was thankful Merlin had seemed to recover his strength quickly enough, the wounds fading almost as quickly as they came. While the sorcerer was still tired from the strain of the spell, the closer they got, the better he seemed. The Bond, however, had not lost its sense of desperate urgency, though Arthur couldn't seem to connect that with the warlock. It was strange to feel an outside source in it, and Merlin gave no signs of experiencing it.

He looked behind them, saw most of the Knights catching up to them. Some had been left with the supply wagon that hadn't had a hope of keeping up. Arthur had set a hard pace- Merlin had set a harder one in his concern for their friend and ally.

He sighed. "I'll send a Knight back to inform the supplies that we've changed direction. We can't wait for them. Can you give me anything more than 'east'?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur, no. The closer I get to her, the weaker the connection gets. If I had to guess, based on how it's been evolving as we traveled, she's at least two hours east," Merlin replied, reaching down to pat the neck of his horse. The poor beast was picking up on his energy and was dancing, ready to be on the way again.

Arthur looked back at the burning city. "At least we have a better idea of what we're heading into. Our goal now, it seems, will be to retake Nemeth."

"How far behind us do you think the regiment is?" Merlin asked.

"They likely left Camelot this morning. It takes time to put together men and supplies. Though with Gwen to whip them, they may have left yesterday."

"Let's hope we don't end up needing them before that," Merlin sighed. He clicked his tongue, turning his horse east before Arthur could object.

_**MERLIN1010101010101010101101010MERLIN** _

Arthur cursed when he watched Merlin dismount before he'd even come to a complete stop. Mithian was standing at the entrance to an old building with two guards, obviously waiting for their arrival. His heart softened though, when he saw the two reach for each other, clashing together in a desperate hug. He dismounted his own horse, glancing around the area, though he was confident they were relatively safe here. He could vaguely make out soldiers of Nemeth spread out in a perimeter around them. Noticed with sadness there were many fairly large gaps.

"You came!" Mithian cried into Merlin's shoulder. "I could feel you getting closer, but I couldn't be sure it wasn't just desperate hope."

"Of course we came," Merlin soothed, rubbing her back gently. He felt her slim body against his, and his heart broke for her. "I'm so sorry," he murmured. He hugged her tighter. He swallowed. "When?"

Arthur frowned at the seemingly random question, then noticed what Merlin had. Her last letter to Merlin had arrived three months ago. She should have been at least a little swollen with child. But her tunic was belted tightly to her all too thin waist, and his heart shattered in sympathy. He knew how badly she'd wanted a child.

"A little over a month ago." She blinked, then seemed to gather herself. She pulled back, reaching out to Arthur. "Thank you," she breathed even as she hugged him, too. She pulled back, smiling. "I am happy to see you both!" She turned to Merlin. "Come, my Father needs you," she grabbed the warlock's hand, frowning at the gloves, then pulled him into the cave.

Leon came up beside Arthur and exchanged a glance with him. "Thick as thieves," Arthur sighed. "Have the Knights set up Camp, and send one out to meet the supplies when they come. Talk to Mithian's soldiers, find out what happened, what our defenses are here. See if we can't fill in some of these gaps in the perimeter."

Leon nodded. "Sire, we've seen citizens and wounded soldiers gathered around. Obviously this is a known refuge, but it doesn't look like they have much by way of medicine, or those to use it."

"We'll have to assume the enemy knows about it too." Arthur looked around again, frowning. "When the supplies get here, have Ian set up an infirmary tent- use mine if you have to, it's big enough. Tell the other Knights their servants will be helping him. And Leon, there is to be no doubt that Ian is in charge- I don't care about their internal ranking. Ian will report directly to you, myself and Merlin."

Leon bowed, turning to obey. Arthur was suddenly glad the manservant had insisted on coming. He knew he could trust Ian to make tough decisions without feeling the need to run to a master for confirmation. Feeling like he had done all he could here, he motioned for a guard to lead him inside. By the time they finally reached the room where Merlin, Mithian and King Rodor were, Arthur had to admit to being impressed. The building went fairly far underground and was quite the labyrinth of twists and turns.

Merlin was kneeling next to the Nemeth King, one hand on his shoulder as he tried to explain something to the King. Rodor seemed intent on refusing it, however, and it seemed Mithian wasn't entirely pleased with the idea either.

"Your Majesty," Arthur greeted, stepping in. "I'm pleased to see you survived the attack."

Rodor smiled weakly at him. "King Arthur, a pleasure to see you after so long. Thank you for coming, though I will confess to being less than pleased with the method. I was disappointed to hear you'd abandoned the wisdom of your Father. Uther was a good man, a strong King!"

Arthur hesitated, but nodded. It wasn't the first time he'd come across that sentiment with their allies. Many of the Kings of the Five Kingdoms had fought alongside his father in what the people were now calling The Magic Wars. He knelt on his knee in front of the King, and smiled. "He was, your Majesty. Camelot remains grateful for the friendship of Nemeth, and were pleased to come to her aid, however the call reached us." He looked at Merlin. "How is he?"

Merlin shook his head, everything in his expression screaming frustration. "He's taken a bad head wound, as well as a puncture to his sides. He's bleeding inside, Arthur. There's only one way to heal him, but he won't let me."

Arthur cupped a hand over his mouth, trying to think of a way to be delicate. "Your Majesty, I can assure you Merlin is a skilled physician. He was apprenticed to Gaius himself for many years. If he says there is no conventional way to treat you, I assure you he speaks true. He has too much respect for the wishes of others to dismiss your dislike of magic idly."

"Arthur," Mithian spoke then, shooting a jointly angry and uncertain look at Merlin. "Ask him _how_ he wants to treat him."

Arthur shot a glare at his lover, then stood, motioning for the boy to follow him to the far side of the room. Once they were out of ear shot, Arthur looked expectantly at his lover. "Well?" He suspected he already knew the answer, but there was a part of him naive and foolish enough to believe he could be wrong.

"Arthur, those wounds are beyond my ability to heal completely," Merlin explained.

Arthur laughed a little, shaking his head, cursing even as he wiped a hand through his hair. Too much to hope for, he supposed. "Merlin, I need you to hear what I'm about to say. No! _Listen_! They have holed up here in a _known_ refuge. If the people know, sooner or later the enemy will too, if they don't already. Very soon, we may be forced into action, and until the army gets here, I have two dozen Knights and a handful of wounded and tired soldiers to try and hold it. Do you understand that?"

Merlin nodded. "I do."

"Then you know I need you in fighting form? Your magic could tip the balance here. The last time you absorbed even a small wound and then performed heavy magic, it nearly _killed_ you."

"Arthur-"

"No, Merlin. I am aware I can, occasionally, be unreasonable when it comes to you, and your safety. But we've been in many battles together. Have I _ever_ risked victory for personal reasons when it really comes down to it?" Arthur waited for the reluctant shake of the sable head. "If we don't have you, then we risk many more lives being lost in the endeavor, and from what I can see, we don't have them to waste. You waited _years_ for me to recognize your magic, your contributions. I do, wholly. And I know I'll need you in this battle."

"But Arthur-"

"Can you save his life, Merlin?" Arthur asked pointedly. "With what you can safely do? I'm asking as your King, and as your Battle Commander."

Merlin nodded. "I can, Sire. He'll take months to recover, and his mind may be a little foggy. But yes, I believe I can save his life."

Arthur nodded, then returned to the Nemeth royalty, kneeling again. "Your Majesty, I can respect your feelings on magic. But I want you to think very carefully on this. We can't return you to the battlefield, but we _can_ save your life. Your daughter knew Camelot would come with Magic, and called us still. Because your people, your kingdom, are more important than an old prejudice."

King Rodor snorted. "We bled for that prejudice. And it cost Uther his life in the end." He looked at Merlin, disgust filling his features. "Killed by filth!"

Mithian immediately reached over and grabbed Arthur's hand, giving it a squeeze, knowing her father's words would hurt him. He patted it, but offered the old King a smile. "It did. It was Morgana that took his life. Merlin would have saved it, had it not been for her interference."

"She was such a sweet child," Rodor mumbled. "But magic corrupted her, and now she is a terror to this land. Your eyes, Arthur Pendragon, bear the mark of that foul corruption. Uther would be terribly disappointed in you. Your eyes... such a betrayal to all we fought to achieve... How am I to know you are you?" He frowned, seemed to have trouble gathering his thoughts. "You could be enchanted. Yes. Morgana was such a sweet child. Filth!" he spit at Merlin again.

"Hatred corrupted her, my Lord, and fear. Morgana believes that Magic is the ultimate power and must rule at all costs. She will stop at nothing to achieve it. Just as the Great Purge sought to destroy all of magic. Mistakes have been made on _both_ sides. Camelot prospers under the belief that it is men's hearts that are due judgement, not their tools," Arthur answered gently, but firmly. "We _will_ respect your wishes, Your Majesty, but please think carefully. For Mithian's sake if not your own. And I would advise you kindly to refrain from further insult to my Consort, King Rodor. _His_ patience is endless... _mine_ is not."

"Father, please," Mithian begged. "Merlin is a _good_ man, with a pure heart. Let him try to save you." She took a deep breath. "If you do not, then I will send Arthur away, and Nemeth will remain under Saxon control."

Arthur looked up, startled. "Mithian…" He would never abandon them just because Rodor couldn't accept healing. He'd stay for her, if nothing else.

"No, Arthur. If my father would rather die than accept the wisdom of progress, die stewed in the old ways, then we don't deserve to ask the men of Camelot to die to re-take a Kingdom that would forsake everything they believe in." She looked back to her Father, her strong will clear in her eyes. "And to a man, they believe it, Father, make no mistake. No sorcerer is powerful enough to enchant so many so deeply. Make your choice, Father."

King Rodor shook his head. "Such force of will is the bane of youth today. Very well. For my people, I will allow it."

Arthur heard Merlin breathe a sigh of relief behind him, and move immediately to the King's side. "Your Majesty, I need to touch you. Is that all right?"

King Rodor nodded. Merlin hesitated a moment, then took off his gloves. Arthur saw Mithian's eyes widen and heard her gasp when she saw the scarred skin. He motioned her away. "Come, Mithian. We need to give Merlin some space. Merlin, if you need anything, you call?" He shot a look at the King, fearing anything Rodor might say to further insult the young man helping him.

Merlin nodded absently, already focusing on his task, asking the King questions to get a sense of his memory. Arthur led the Princess to where he and Merlin had been talking earlier.

"Arthur, his hands…"

"It's a long story," Arthur swallowed. "And not a pleasant one. He wears the gloves to hide them, please don't bring attention to them."

The Princess nodded in understanding. "I won't. I'm simply glad he survived it, whatever it was."

"Mithian, what happened here?"

She shook her head. "Saxons, Arthur. They've been attacking our border towns for months along the coast. Quick little skirmishes, then back onto their ships. Often we thought ourselves successful in driving them back, but then they'd return with twice their numbers within days."

"Your husband?" Arthur asked, understanding he'd likely have been leading the army. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mithian."

She drew in a deep breath. "It's all right. It happened two months ago, just before I lost our child. I'm grateful I never had to tell him. Then we heard they were beginning to come inland, and we sent out the majority of our army to meet them. We managed to cut their numbers in half, but they decimated our army. When they came for the City, we had nothing but guards and squires to defend with. We evacuated when we saw them coming, as many as we could, but they came so quickly."

" _Months_ , Mithian? _Why_ didn't you call for us?" Arthur growled, grabbing her by the shoulders in anger. "You had to know we'd come! We could have stopped this before it ever got this far!"

"My father," she confessed, ashamed. "He knew you'd bring Merlin, and he wanted nothing to do with the magic he thinks you've corrupted yourself with. When word came of your alliance with Dumnonia, he wanted to call off the friendship altogether, to openly name Nemeth an enemy of Camelot. It frightened me. Already our people look to Camelot as an example, wondering if your prosperity was due to your acceptance of magic. His proclamation may have caused a great deal of civil unrest. I managed to talk him out of that, told him we could still be allies without sharing the same beliefs. That if we broke the alliance, we'd open ourselves up for war and Camelot is too powerful now to dare consider that an option." She shook her head sadly. "Even then, he wouldn't see sense. It took a reminder of how disappointed Uther would be in him for not supporting his son. You remember at one point they wanted us to marry? For that friendship, he relented, and only that."

Arthur stepped back, dropping his hands, stunned. "How many lives lost for pride of our fathers?" he cursed, saddened.

"Arthur, those are _his_ words. I hold true to our friendship, and Merlin is dear to me. I wouldn't trade our friendships for the world, and I know you understand when I say I mean things to be different when I'm Queen," she pleaded. "But I didn't dare go against his wishes until the city was all but taken, and we had to fight our way out of the castle to get here. I was desperate, and by then I thought he'd see we had nothing else to lose."

Arthur took a deep breath. "I understand all too well, Mithian. I'm sorry for the loss of your people, but we are the future, you and I. Things will be different under your rule when the time comes." He had a thought, then, and frowned. "Why didn't your father call on Essetir?"

Mithian shook her head. "Once his nephew was dead, King Lot returned a message indicating that the marriage contract, and therefore the alliance, was invalidated, since I had not successfully produced an heir."

Arthur sighed, having a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach which he pushed aside for now. "So how many men do you have remaining?"

"Perhaps a hundred. If we had time, we could conscript perhaps another fifty from the outer villages, but reports that came to us before the attack on the city said they were hit hard too."

"And how many Saxons?"

"We don't know for sure. More arrive every day. They are gathering in the City. Thousands, Arthur, if not ten or fifteen." She hesitated. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, and I know my message wasn't clear, but, is that all you have? Two dozen Knights? And Merlin, obviously. I know he's almost as good as an army by himself."

"Let's hope, Princess, that it doesn't come down to that. Merlin isn't designed to kill. He will if he has to, but it will destroy a part of him we'll never get back," Arthur answered seriously. He shook himself out of those dark thoughts. "There's a regiment on its way. Consider us the advance scouts. A few days to plan and prepare here while we wait for them to arrive. I can only hope we have that time."

Mithian looked relieved. She glanced over at Merlin, watching him work for a moment. "Did the charm hurt him very much? I'm sorry I had to use it. He told me what could happen. I almost didn't, but we were desperate."

"He was simply glad to have proof you were alive, Mithian. It was the style of the wounds that gave us an idea of what was going on. I've been through enough campaigns to recognize battle wounds when I see them. We rode out immediately, with orders to get the regiment gathered as quickly as possible to follow us." Arthur sighed. "Even once they arrive, we're still outnumbered. I'll send Leon and a few of the Knights to scout the city. We need to know how many we're facing."

They watched as Merlin stood, placing a comforting hand on the shoulder of the King, before making his way to them, putting his gloves back on as he walked. Arthur watched him closely, but it seemed the warlock had seen the sense of obeying orders this time. He looked tired, but not in any kind of pain. Not that Arthur would put it past him to hide it.

"How is he?" Mithian asked anxiously when Merlin reached them.

Merlin smiled reassuringly. "He'll be fine, with time. Though I have no way of knowing how much damage may have been done by the head wound. The skull was broken and inset, putting pressure on his brain. I've been speaking to him, however. And while his thoughts can drift easily, he seems to have his wits about him for the most part. Go talk to him, Mithian. He'll need to sleep soon."

Mithian threw her arms around him in another hug, then went to her father. Arthur had been watching Merlin's face closely, and once she was gone, he cleared his throat. "Now what's the truth?"

Merlin ducked his head, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I couldn't fix the damage, Arthur, not that way. It was beyond my ability. Everything I said was true, but he will degenerate quickly. Whether she's ready or not, we re-take Nemeth in the name of Queen Mithian, not King Rodor. Arthur, I know how much respect you have for the old war friendships, but it would be best if you can find a way to take control of their men."

"Merlin, King Rodor is an excellent strategist and military commander…" Arthur started, trailing off when Merlin shook his head, looking at him with a pained expression.

"He _was_ , Arthur." He put a hand on his lover's arm. "Trust me, you _need_ to take control sooner rather than later."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "This just keeps getting better."


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur pushed his palms into his eyes. He was exhausted, and Leon's news wasn't what he'd been hoping to hear. "You're sure?"

Leon nodded. "Yes, Sire. Even once the regiment gets here, we're outnumbered ten to one. Arthur, I don't think even Merlin can even those odds any."

Arthur snorted. "Oh, he can. He'll kill himself doing it, possibly level the city, but he can." He sighed. "We may not have a choice but to let him." Arthur closed his eyes. The need for that much carnage would devastate the warlock. Doing what he had to do to defend Camelot's walls was one thing. Asking him to deliberately and consciously go up against an army in a war that wasn't strictly theirs was something else altogether.

Leon nodded sadly. He cleared his throat, placing a piece of paper in front of Arthur. "The remnants of the Nemeth armies are slowly coming in. There are about an additional 50 in the infirmary tents today, and Ian has told me that if we have a few days, there are about 75 more men who will be well enough to take up arms again. Mithian has also confirmed complete control of the army, such as it is, is yours. Your command won't be contested again, she assures me. I think Merlin had a very honest talk with her regarding her father."

"Any word on the progress of our regiment?" Arthur appreciated Ian's efforts, but the small handfuls of injured soldiers the manservant sent him weren't nearly enough to make any kind of a dent. They were living on borrowed time, the Saxons more intent on gathering their somehow inexhaustible numbers than hunting them. Sooner or later, that luck would change, he knew.

Leon shook his head. "I sent a rider yesterday morning. With any luck, they should be fairly close."

"I want them to set up outside the city walls. Far enough away to be out of firing range, but close enough that it looks like we're reduced to a siege. It might buy us some time. Once the Saxons are out from behind those walls it'll be a slaughter." Arthur stood, walking around his desk to look at the rough map hanging on the catacomb wall. "Leon, you know as well as I do this isn't a skirmish force. They are securing Nemeth, using the coast to supply, and then they'll move inland. This is the beginning of an invasion. If we don't stop them here…"

"Camelot will eventually be facing the same," Leon finished. "As will the other Five Kingdoms. Is there any hope of calling for help?"

"I've sent out riders to all of our allies, but there's little hope any help they do send will arrive in time. As it is, we're running out of supplies for the men we already have. I've sent Nemeth guards in disguise to buy from the border villages in Essetir, but they have little to spare. Have hunting parties gather everything edible they can find. Merlin can help identify edible plants. Where _is_ he, anyway?" Arthur growled. Leon looked away, and the King sighed in frustration. "He's in the tents again, isn't he?"

"He's Healing only the worst of the injuries, and Ian isn't letting him push himself too far." Leon cleared his throat. "He _is_ a Physician, Arthur. You can't expect him to stop in times like this. He's always been either at your side, or Gaius'. I will intervene if you wish, Sire, but he strongly feels this is how best to honor his guardian's memory."

Arthur shook his head. "No, leave him for now. As long as Ian is keeping an eye on him, then you're right. It's probably the best place for him."

Definitely better, Arthur considered, than sitting there with him brooding over hopeless numbers.

_**MERLIN10101010101010110MERLIN** _

Arthur groaned as Merlin's talented hands worked knots out of his tense shoulders. Long fingers knew just where to push hard, and where to gently knead. "Gods, Merlin," he moaned. "That feels good." He tensed when Merlin's fingers found a particularly difficult knot, relaxing when the younger man used the palm of his hand, putting pressure while he made little circles to leech the tension out of the muscles around it. It felt like each knot the boy worked out, ten more replaced it.

"Are things really that hopeless?" Merlin asked quietly as he worked.

"That depends. Are you asking me as your King, or your lover?"

"Whichever one needs to answer me. Though I suspect both helped create these knots," the warlock tried to tease, disappointed when Arthur didn't crack a smile. If anything, he seemed to tense all over again, undoing all his hard work. "What's bothering you so much, Arthur?" he asked gently. "We've faced impossible odds before, so it can't be just that."

Arthur sighed, reaching back and grabbing one of the hands working at his shoulders. He brought it around to his mouth, enjoying the feel of Merlin leaning against his back, turned it around and kissed the scarred palm. "We're going to need you." He leaned back feeling his world balance itself when long arms wrapped tightly around him. "I wish we didn't."

Merlin dropped a kiss onto the golden hair. "I know." He nipped at Arthur's ear. "It's alright, Arthur. I knew it was likely going to come down to it. I can count as well as you."

Arthur shook his head. "What you'll have to do... Merlin, I'm scared."

"Of what? Arthur, hey, what's wrong?" Merlin asked when he felt the slight tremble that came with the confession, frowning. He couldn't think of a single thing that could frighten his warrior King nearly so badly and deeply. He wanted to laugh it off, but there was something in Arthur's voice, in the way his muscles tensed, that told the warlock just how serious this fear was. He'd only ever heard Arthur say he was scared once before. The reminder didn't bode well for where his lover's mind was going currently.

"I almost lost you once to darkness, because you were forced to kill hundreds to save me. I'm about to ask you to kill _thousands_ , and I am terrified I'll lose you to that darkness again. That this will cost you a part of yourself that we can't ever get back," Arthur whispered, leaning into the feeling of Merlin's arms wrapping around him. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "And there's nothing I can do to stop it. I have no power to shield you from this."

"I can't promise that you won't," Merlin answered honestly as he rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder. "But I have every faith that _you_ can bring me back. I didn't have us, Arthur, last time. Not like this. I had barely a whisper of all we are now. I _have_ to believe that's enough of an anchor to hold off that darkness. Just promise me you won't let me push you away. If you can promise that, then I can promise to try and hold on. To stay me and not give in."

"Together," Arthur promised. "Always."

"Then there's nothing for either of us to be frightened of," Merlin replied confidently, cheerfully.

It was said with such utter conviction that it made Arthur laugh, even as he turned to use his strong arms to pull his warlock around and into his lap, kissing the tantalizing lips even as Merlin settled his long legs on his knees on either side of his hips. "Hmmmm, I could get used to this."

"King Arthur!" came with a loud bang on the quickly assembled door they had managed to put together.

Arthur sighed in frustration, putting his forehead on Merlin's collarbone. "I _am_ going to get you naked one night soon if it kills us both," he growled regretfully, letting the younger man get up with regret. "Come in."

"Sire, Princess Mithian needs to see you immediately."

"Is it her father?" Merlin asked in concern, grabbing and then throwing Arthur's tunic to him, washing his own hands quickly to rid them of the oil he'd been using on the tense back. King Rodor was being tended to by one of his servants, though he seemed content to be left out of the battle preparations. One of his Knights reported to him regularly, though what he was told changed often pending the state of his weakening mind. Merlin tried Healing regularly with him, but it wasn't producing any results.

"No, my Lord. I'm to say only to come at once," the youth replied, hopping from foot to foot, clearly anxious. "Please, Lords. We must go quickly."

Arthur exchanged glances with his lover. It was unusual for Mithian not to come herself. If it was news of an impending attack, then one of the Knights would have brought it. This youth was one of many that spent their days running messages around the Camp.

They followed the boy, matching his speed. They'd spent days in the Catacombs now, enough to have learned the maze of them, and could have simply found out where and gone themselves. But the boys who ran messages had been made to feel they were a valuable resource to the war efforts. They took their roles seriously, and however impatient he was to get back to his bed- preferably with a very naked warlock beside him- Arthur wasn't inclined to take the feeling away from this messenger.

They turned into the rooms that had been roughly set up as Mithian's bed chamber. With her stood four people, their faces covered in dark cloaks. Frowning, Arthur waved a hand to dismiss the boy. As soon as he was gone, the Princess moved behind them and shut the door.

Merlin noted the smile on her face, and relaxed. Whoever they were, they were no threat to them, but obviously had requested secrecy. He couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up in him when the four visitors threw back their hoods and he recognized them. He couldn't have stopped the "Oh thank the gods!" that rushed out of his mouth if his life had depended on it.

"King Arthur, Your Highness, it is good to see you both well," Durstan greeted warmly.

Arthur nodded, reaching out to clasp arms with the Prince. "It's good to see you, too, Durstan, but, _how_?" He smiled when his greeting hug surprised Artemis, but he didn't care. He was beyond happy to see them all! And the hope they brought with them.

Gwen smiled. "Prince Durstan has quite the tale to tell," she answered.

Durstan waved to the fourth visitor, an older man they didn't recognize. "King Arthur, Brother, may I introduce our Battle Master, Eliam."

Eliam bowed first to Arthur, then more deeply to Merlin. "Your Highness, Dumnonia's resources are at your command."

Shocked, Merlin exchanged a look with Gwen. "What do you mean?"

"I think we should tell it in full, Durstan," Gwen suggested, taking a seat at the table, motioning for the others to do the same. Mithian sat, slightly confused by the whole thing, and Arthur remembered he hadn't had a chance to tell her about the recent events in Camelot. He'd noticed her shocked look when the older man greeted Merlin as royalty. Perhaps he should have written a little more often himself.

Arthur, Merlin, and Mithian listened as their visitors told their tale. Dumnonia, being neighbors of Nemeth, were aware of the Saxon threat. Unfortunately, they could not offer help as there was no formal alliance between the two Kingdoms. Since Camelot had not formally requested their help, then once again the coastal Kingdom was restrained in what they could offer.

When the regiment that Arthur had ordered was half assembled, Artemis had returned to Camelot. After being told of where Arthur and Merlin were, the old Druid had immediately sent a bird to Dumnonia. A reply returned within a day to inform them that as a member of the Royal House was endangered, Dumnonia would spare no resource to ensure his safety.

Merlin scowled. "I'm not in any danger," he protested. "And a member of the the Royal House only in name."

Arthur smirked. "It's war, Merlin, we're _all_ in danger. Does the Queen understand that this _is_ war? This isn't merely a skirmish."

Durstan nodded sadly. "We could see it happening, Arthur. I wasn't aware of it as I was in Camelot for many of those months, and Bursus had been very vocal in insisting Dumnonia see to its own borders. As my youngest Sister is not yet of age to command the armies, that responsibility was temporarily his, and Mother could not nay say him. My mother has been watching it anxiously, and we've been preparing to defend our own borders. She had someone watching the Message Alcoves day and night, waiting. While no formal alliance exists, we have a successful trade contract with Nemeth, despite King Rodor's feelings on Magic. All we needed was a request."

Eliam nodded at Merlin. "Your involvement, your Highness, gave us the opportunity to offer resources we normally would have not. While we are, of course, saddened that Nemeth has suffered, my counsel to the Queen has long been to take this battle as far from our lands as possible. While we understand that King Arthur was not fully aware of the situation before he left, we chose to believe he would have done the same, and requested aid, had he known."

Arthur nodded. "Agreed. Keep the fighting as far from the inner Kingdoms as possible. I would have sent word to mobilize the entire Camelot army, but we're experiencing some troubles with Mercia, and I couldn't leave her borders undefended."

Gwen smiled. "Mercia is no longer a concern, Arthur. I have not been idle while the army prepared. King Bayard has passed away, and it is his first son, Luis, that has taken the throne and has agreed that a continued alliance with Camelot is in the best interest of peace. Camelot is safe. We have evacuated the outer villages into the City until our return, to err on the side of caution."

Arthur grinned at her, shaking his head. "You _are_ amazing, Gwen!"

"How many men have you brought?" Mithian asked. She was incredibly curious as to the story behind Merlin's sudden royal status, but decided now was not the time.

Eliam cleared his throat. "Princess, we have brought five thousand strong on land, and our battleships have already cleared the Nemeth harbor of enemies." He bowed his head to Merlin. "My apologies, your Highness, but our orders were clear in Prince Durstan being in command until such a time as we met up with you. He assures me you would have agreed that cutting off the Saxon reinforcements would be our first priority. We have also secured the coastal villages and towns, Princess. Your people are safe to return to their homes. We have left small garrisons at each, which will remain until this is over, or his Highness commands differently."

"And the losses for retaking those lands?" Merlin asked quietly. Not his men, not really, but lives given in his name nonetheless, and each loss a stain on his soul.

"Minimal, your Highness. And all given gladly, if not for our Elder Prince, then in answering the call of Emrys, may the Glorious Dead be forever blessed in His Light," the Battle Master concluded the benediction by rote.

Arthur was sure he was the only one who saw Merlin flinch. His arms itched to hold his lover, to protect him from the realities that they faced. It was going to get so much worse before this was concluded. "Remember those we save," he murmured quietly to his lover, satisfying himself by reaching over to squeeze a hand that Merlin had somehow taken the time to glove.

Artemis, silent until now, cleared his throat. "Mercia has sent two thousand more, Arthur, in proof of their dedication to the Alliance with Camelot, and Lothian sends one thousand more by ship that will be here in two days."

Arthur frowned. "Lothian?"

Artemis nodded. "Queen Annis of Caerleon, while unable to send men directly, has taken charge of a supply route through Camelot to Nemeth. Caerleon has long been an ally of Lothian."

Arthur closed his eyes. If they could hold out for two more days, they'd have nearly ten thousand men. Almost enough to make them even with the Saxons. He began to feel hope. Morale would be greatly improved with the knowledge that supplies were on the way, and the ones he was sure marched with the armies of Dumnonia and Camelot would be enough to see full bellies for the first time in days. They hadn't left Camelot prepared for war.

"And who commands the Allied Forces?" Mithian asked.

Eliam grumbled under his breath, stilled by Durstan. But it was Gwen who answered. "There was only one each Kingdom could agree on. Arthur is to command them." She nodded at Merlin. "The only exception, of course, are the men of Dumnonia."

Eliam held his head up high. "We mean no disrespect, King Arthur, but the Elder Prince is our leader in this effort. Our men will not follow anyone else. You must understand, each one is here entirely voluntarily, hoping to become one of the Glorious Dead in the name of Emrys, Kingdom and Valor."

Merlin's eyes were saucers when he took in those words. "Five thousand _volunteers_?"

Eliam nodded seriously. "Eight, Your Highness, if you count the two thousand on the battleships holding the harbor, as well as the small garrisons." He smiled. "And for that, the Queen had to hold a lottery in order to have enough men remain to maintain our own borders, peace, and trades."

"Why did you four come in secret?" Mithian asked.

Artemis nodded at Gwen. "It was the Queen Regent's idea. She insisted we hide our strength in numbers until we'd all had a chance to speak. Understanding that Arthur would be facing superior numbers, she didn't want to interfere with any plans he had laid out. For a peasant raised Queen, I will confess to being impressed enough to consider it sage advice. And so we came as peasants, people of Nemeth seeking our Princess."

Gwen blushed. "You have to understand, Arthur, what all this means. The Kingdoms are united, save for Essetir, under one commander- since we all know Merlin will follow your lead, I'm sorry Eliam but I did try and tell you- for the first time in history. We are united against a Saxon threat that would endanger us all if not stopped. This was not easily done, nor cheaply. There are obligations that will follow should we succeed."

Merlin closed his eyes, feeling destiny playing at the edges of his mind, whispering to him, directing him. He hesitated, but somehow knew it would be all right this time. He'd known that small amount of crystal magic was left, had never been tempted to even look into the caged power that drifted in his own. For the first time, he deftly opened the cage Arthur had built around it, ignoring the wards his lover had put around it to protect him. He felt his lover tense beside him, and vaguely heard him growl, but he paid it no mind as images flooded his mind.

He felt Arthur instinctively throw up shields, but shook his head, looking to his King, flaring gold crowns meeting their equal as Arthur tried to extend the power of the Bond around him, even as he gasped from the sudden rush the locked up power. "There's no need, Arthur. Not this time." He turned his head, eyes sliding to something only he could see. "Feel it, Arthur," he whispered. "Feel destiny calling. It's time to See."

"See? You owe me a cask of the cider just delivered from Camelot," Durstan whispered to Eliam. "A genuine Soul Bond!"

"So I do, Prince Durstan. So I do. Incredible, to live to witness it."

Merlin explored the images, cocking his head and closing his eyes again. Arthur's final attack in the woods that night had unknowingly softened the ancient power to a dull edge. It could show him only three possible futures, but he could feel these three had been preserved for a reason. He winced, trying to turn away from them, but his magic drove him, telling how much he needed to see these. In one, they lost this battle despite their increase in numbers. In another, they won, but it came at a very high cost, including the life of his King and lover. In the third… his eyes flew open, and he physically threw himself from the table, panting. He jerked when he felt Arthur's arms go around him to steady him, not having seen his King move with him. "No!"

"Merlin!" Arthur tried to keep his lover balanced even as the younger man squirmed against him. He'd had only a moment's warning to feel panic rush through the Bond before Merlin had tried to run from what he was seeing, managing to grab him before he could do any damage to himself.

Merlin shook his head. "It can't be," he yelled as he lashed out weakly in anger and tears at the King restraining him. "It can't be true! Not yet!" he cried out, still partly lost in the Vision.

He saw Artemis looking at him with sympathy, and the sorrow in the older man's eyes was enough to buckle his knees, letting his lover hold a great deal of his weight as tears blurred his vision and he sobbed, still shaking his head in denial.

"I'm sorry, Emrys," the old druid spoke, nodding. "It is the only way."

Arthur tensed, looking between the two, not understanding. His lover was no longer struggling against him, was, in fact, now curling into his support. He was barely managing to keep the two of them on their feet. Whatever he had seen had devastated him. The Bond was screaming at him so loudly it nearly deafened him. It warned of danger, of darkness. "Damnit, Merlin, what is it?" he demanded. "Are you alright?"

Merlin clung to him, tears filled eyes still distant, somewhat vacant as he tortured himself with whatever he was seeing. "She's here, Arthur. Our time has come."

At the first the King was confused, but then took in Merlin's severe reaction to the vision, his utter desolation, and put it all together. Arthur shook his head adamantly. "No. Not now."

Merlin allowed his eyes to glow once more, revealing the vision, and there was an ancient power in his voice when he answered. "Two battles, one fate, victory and defeat linked, bound to each other by the promises whilom made. The battle has been destined since the dawn of man, and it will be the future of man. The Son of the Dragon to hold back the tides, and the Son of Magic to meet the Bane of Light, the Witch in tower high. When the field flows red and the ancient magics loosed will an end be decided. The scales bygone tipped must balance once more..."

"Merlin! Stay with me!" Arthur shook the warlock as his head dropped back, his eyes closing, his full weight being taken by the King holding him. He'd seen this before, this semi conscious state, and it terrified him just as much now as it did then. Arthur tapped his cheek to bring him around. "Come back to me, Love. Yes, that's it."

"What's going on?" Gwen asked, uncertainly. She was frightened by the look of fear on Arthur's face, the distant power in Merlin's voice, and her friend's extreme reaction, though he was coming around again now, as if the shock of what he'd seen had been momentarily too much for him to process. Durstan and Eliam looked equally upset, half risen from their seats. Merlin's words had frozen them.

Blinking, Merlin frowned, confused, realized Arthur was keeping them standing. "Arthur?"

"Can you stand?" Arthur asked gently, waiting the moment it took for his words to penetrate, then easing his hold as the warlock, trembling, took his own weight again, standing tense and ready in case he should fall back under the combination of his distress and dangerous magics. The two extremes never mixed well for the warlock.

"Arthur!" Gwen demanded, frustrated with being ignored.

Arthur shot her a glare, then grabbed Merlin's hand, dragging him to a corner of the room, his hands remaining, shaking, on Merlin's upper arms. He could see the ancient power of the crystal swirling in Merlin's eyes, but shook his head. "There has to be another way. I can see other paths, other futures in your eyes, Merlin. There _is_ another way."

"There isn't, Arthur. Those other paths show only failure, show the consequences of not doing this," Merlin answered softly.

"But your vision, the reason I almost lost you when I created the Link..."

"We have only this one chance, Arthur, to change that destiny, and it cannot be done the way we thought."

Arthur cupped his lover's face, tears shining in his eyes. "No. We were to stand together." Merlin's first vision had showed both their deaths as a result of this battle. It was one thing to know if one died the other would too, but Arthur had always thought it would be side by side. To be denied even that seemed far too cruel. Punishment, perhaps, for his youthful arrogance in thinking he could outsmart Fate.

Merlin moved his hand to grasp the wrists of the hands holding his face, were running thumbs along his cheekbones. He shivered as they slowly eased away his terror, his grief, reminding him they did have one chance, still. "We will always stand together. In this, we are simply on different battlefields. I will do what I can for yours, but then I must see to mine if you're to have any hope of victory."

"I can't help you if I'm not beside you," Arthur murmured. "Your vision said you lost this battle, Merlin. I can't… the only hope we had of changing it was to be together." He leaned his forehead against that of his lover, long used to both take and give comfort between them. "I can't lose you, Love."

Merlin kissed him, gently, sweetly, aware of their audience at the table, who were pointedly ignoring them as they continued their own discussions. "It's the only way. You heard Artemis. Morgana must be defeated here and now, or all is lost." He kissed his King again. "The First Knights of Albion, you called us. And so we must be. You to command one field, I another. Should either of us fail, Arthur, then the future we have fought for all these long years, is gone."

Arthur growled. "I won't break the Link."

Merlin shook his head sadly. "I would beg you, promise anything I had to, to break it, but it doesn't matter now. I don't think you can anymore. This is one of those times, Arthur, where you have to let me go because it's the right thing to do." He swallowed, looking his lover in the eye. "And I have to let you go for the same reason," he whispered, for the first time truly understanding how difficult it had always been, being the one left behind in fear, uncertainty, and waiting.

Arthur kissed him fiercely, then, pushing in all his desperation, his fury, his resignation to the truth, into it. Felt his lover answer him in kind, felt the apology, felt the confidence that this was right and true even as the sorrow came through.

_**MERLIN101010101010101010MERLIN** _

"I don't understand," Gwen murmured to Artemis. "They're acting like this is goodbye. They've fought many battles together. Why does this one frighten them?"

The old druid looked sad when he turned to her. "Destiny has never been an easy Mistress, Gwen. And theirs is one heavy enough to crush any mortal man. They have gained their strength from each other over the years, stood side by side. Now Destiny calls them to different paths. A final act of cruelty in a time when they need each other most."

"What did Merlin mean by 'she's here'?" The Nemeth Princess asked.

"Morgana is the mastermind behind this invasion," Artemis replied evenly. "She has allied with King Lot of Essetir."

Durstan and Eliam shuddered. "The great battle between Emrys and the Witch, as was prophesied," Durstan added, saddened.

Gwen frowned. "Surely the prophecy gives some indication of a winner?"

All three men shook their heads. "If this is the Great Battle, my Lady," Eliam answered in awe, "then it speaks only to the end of all mankind, or the golden age of Albion."

"Both futures remain firm," Artemis spoke. "Both visions existing in balance with each other, as they will until one of them either fails, or they both succeed."

Mithian sighed. "I feel awful for calling them now. I didn't know…"

"This was played out as it was always meant to be, Princess. Destiny alone decides when and where she will play her hand. Nemeth was never more than a tool, though pending the outcome, may play a larger part still in the future of Albion," Artemis reassured.

Durstan shook himself. "I, for one, have great faith in both Emrys as well as the Once and Future King. We will take victory from both fields, though I fear this is no longer a game of numbers."

Gwen cleared her throat. "Our focus must be on victory as we can achieve it. The matters of Magic will see to their own, as we must see to ours. If Merlin has other duties, Eliam, will the men follow Arthur?"

"They will," Merlin announced, as he and Arthur returned to the table. Arthur looked devastated, but determined. There was a sadness about the warlock, but also a grim resignation to do what had to be done. Gwen had seen the look many times over the years, and her heart ached for it.

Eliam frowned. "Your Highness," he started to object, but Merlin shook his head.

"If they will not obey the command of their Elder Prince, Eliam, then they _will_ obey the word of Emrys. I cannot have my attentions divided, and I cannot deny my responsibility to Destiny." There was a quiet, confident, command in his voice, and Arthur watched as Merlin turned hard eyes matching the same tone as his voice on the Dumnonian Battle Master. "Or are the beliefs of your people so thin that they would _dare_ to _dictate_ to _me_ which battle I choose? Dare to assume the petty battles of mortal man take precedence over a destiny written deeply into the stars themselves?"

Arthur marveled again at his lover, at the bearing he was capable of displaying. It had always amazed the King how he could flash between servant and confidently powerful being at will. Merlin had managed to convince him that this was the path they had to take. That there would either be great reward, or great sorrow, at the end of it. His warrior heart knew it was the way it had to be, but the lover in him wanted nothing more than to rush the warlock to safety. For the firs time, however, he got a clear vision of the Battle Mage, more than capable of commanding his own field.

Durstan looked suitably impressed. Eliam shook his head, abashed and suitable chastised. "No, they are not so thin. Forgive me, Great One. An honor to Serve."

"Then the Dumnonian Army, whether land or sea, will follow the command of King Arthur, obeyed as swiftly as though the orders came from me."

Eliam and Durstan both bowed their heads. "As you command, your Highness."

Arthur sighed. Obviously both men were torn. While the Elder Prince was an adoptive member of their Royal House- issued by Victim Rights from a failed assassination attempt- Merlin was also the foundation of their entire Religion. They had to have known, given their dedication to the prophecies of the ancient druid lines they laid claim of lineage to, that they would likely see those days come once Merlin had been born.

"So now we have two battles to coordinate. No, Merlin, I agreed to let you go. I _never_ agreed to let you go alone!" Arthur forestalled the warlock's objection. "I understand this battle between you and Morgana is one none of us are equipped to fight with you, but she will be surrounded by Saxons, and you're as susceptible to a steel blade in the back as any of us mere mortals. You said it yourself, your attentions can't be divided."

The group spoke long into the night, forming a battle plan. Arthur took command easily, his strategic mind deciding to perceive the battle as though defending two separate gates. Eliam, being a hardened soldier himself, was quick to offer suggestions. Artemis, Gwen and Mithian would be left to run the infirmary tents. Durstan would be returned to the battleships, as his training was for water warfare.

By the time the sun dawned the following morning, they were ready to begin spreading orders.

In three days time, the battle for Albion, for mankind, would begin.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Warning, Slashy goodies in this chapter!
> 
> MERLIN1010101010MERLIN

Merlin sighed as he felt his King's arm come around him, holding him tightly. It had been two days of chaos and preparing for tomorrow's battle. They'd barely seen each other, busy dealing allies, requests, disgruntlements, dividing soldiers, laying out plans. They were as ready as they could be, but it had cost him precious time away from the man he loved- the man he could very well lose tomorrow, though he'd vowed never to voice that fear out loud.

"Spell the room, Merlin," Arthur whispered, appreciating the shivers that came from the warlock in response to the light work of his lips on the back of his neck.

"Arthur-"

"I _won't_ be interrupted. I've already left orders they can barge right in if we should fall under attack. For nothing less will I give up tonight. _Spell_ the room," Arthur ordered again. "I have no intentions of being quiet."

" _Swīġan forswigest_ ," Merlin murmured obediently, his eyes flashing gold. He felt the slight tremble in the muscles hold him, and shook his head. "Arthur, I _won't_ say good bye to you. If you think that's what this is…"

Arthur shook his head, turning the younger man in his arms to meet his eyes. "Not good bye. We _will_ see each other when the sun sets and the battles are won," he replied confidently, dipping down to nip at the swan like throat that enthralled him endlessly. "I need you to remind me," Arthur whispered. "The future is too vast, my Love. I can't fight for so grand a scheme. It's too much." He sucked at the pulse, shivering when he heard Merlin moan, delighting in the feel of the younger man pressing that lithe body against his own. "But this… I can fight to preserve _this_. To preserve _us_."

Merlin melted, giving himself over completely as Arthur's lips captured his own.

Arthur growled as he felt the warlock surrender to him. His hands moved to rid the boy of his shirt, quickly untying laces. In moments with only the barest break of their lips, all barriers were removed. Tongues danced together, trying to swallow everything the other was, to taste everything they could and imprint it on their memories.

Arthur broke the kiss to watch his fingertips slide up the fair skin, watch as Merlin shuddered in response to the light touch. He watched his hands roam, touching everything, eliciting little groans. When Merlin tried to respond, tried to touch back, Arthur moved his palms over those bare arms, pushing them behind the warlock's back, using one strong hand to hold both wrists. Tonight, he needed to impress the warlock in his mind, and heart. Tonight, he needed to only touch, not _be_ touched.

He felt Merlin tense, used his other hand to cup the warlock's face, forcing him to look at Arthur's eyes even as the warlock tried to turn away, to swallow his instant fear. "It's me, Love. Just me. I'll let you go the moment you ask, but I want to do this." He kissed along Merlin's jawline, finding some amusement in the rough shadow the younger man hadn't rid himself of since Ian was busy in the infirmary tent. "Let me do this," he pleaded. He loosened his hold on those thin wrists when they tried to move apart, tried to prove he'd let go.

The King waited patiently while his lover struggled to push away memories of darker times. This was new for them, but Arthur had never felt a greater need in his life. "I need this," he whispered, keeping his kisses light, gentle- tender. If he let Merlin go, they'd fall into their usual pattern of passion and desire. Tonight, he needed so much more. Even as he moved his mouth, he felt the increasing tension in the shaking muscles, understanding dawned that it was fear- not pleasure- that moved him so.

Merlin shook his head, tears coming to his eyes. "I can't… Arthur, I'm sorry… I can't…" he gasped, unable to overcome the terror he was feeling. He'd never denied Arthur anything, and it broke his heart to do so now. But even knowing it was his King, his love, his life, wasn't enough to overcome the memories. He closed his eyes in shame, hating that he couldn't offer this, that those memories still held such dark power over him.

Nodding, Arthur sighed, immediately releasing the wrists, wrapping his arms around the younger man, holding him tightly against him once more. "Shhh, it's alright. I understand. It's okay," he soothed. He felt the edges of panic even in the Bond reaching for him, and he wrapped them both up in the strength of his love, his desire, his patience. "Breathe, Merlin, please, Love. I'm sorry. I won't try that again, okay? Breathe for me," Arthur encouraged, trying to talk the younger man through his panic attack. "Shhhh... shhhh... feel _me_ , Merlin. Feel me holding you, feel the Bond wrapping you safely up in all that I am. _Feel_ it, Love. There. Good. Listen to my voice. Let me ground you," Arthur spoke softly into the younger man's ear, letting his hands roam everywhere- except the warlock's arms- to give him a chance to feel the tenderness, the gentleness, of them. "Kiss me," he asked gently. "Know it's me, Love."

He covered Merlin's mouth with his own, his tongue lightly seeking entrance. Hesitantly, Merlin met him. Arthur encouraged more, let his hands move up to work his fingertips lightly against the silk skin of his lover's throat. "It's alright," he whispered again, meaning it, trying to work his forgiveness into the dance of their tongues, asking for forgiveness in return. He took his time, proving he was in no hurry. He ran his fingers back up the sensitive sides, used thumbs to tweak pink little nubs into their aroused state. He found a new kind of arousal in this exchange. Whenever one hand was busy, he kept the other wrapped tightly around his lover as slowly those little shivers became pleasure rather than fear, until the tears dried and little groans came from those kiss swollen lips.

When the warlock finally relaxed against him, allowing his arousal to bury the thoughts in his mind, Arthur smiled, reached down and lifted his lover. Merlin didn't hesitate in wrapping those long legs around his waist. Arthur walked them the few steps back until he felt the shiver work its way through his lover's body as his bare back hit the cold wall of the catacombs.

Arthur delighted in the weight in his arms, in the feel of having one arm wrapped securely around the thin waist for support while the other hand was full of a firm buttock. He nipped his way along the collar bone that was eye level with him. "There's a beam directly above you," he whispered. "Reach up and grab it with both hands, take some of the weight."

Merlin obeyed immediately, almost losing his grip when Arthur pushed him up further that with a little bend, the King could nip and suck along the shaft of his lover. Arthur mouthed the inflamed skin, enjoying the sensation of heat against his own sensitive lips, humming along it in a way that had the warlock gasping. His own pleasure rolled pleasantly in his belly, eager but not unrelenting yet. He teased the younger man, shivering at the grunts that were coming from his lover, moving his tongue over every inch of the long shaft, the pink tip, but never once taking him in fully. He continued to tease lightly until the sorcerer growled in frustration.

Arthur grinned, lowering the younger man a little more so he could taste the light sheen of sweat that covered the alabaster skin of his collarbone. He moved his fingers to the conveniently close entrance. Merlin gasped and arched as he pushed in one finger, then two. The warlock writhed against the wall, calling out, as he inserted a third, unable to find a purchase, completely at the mercy of his King's desire and pace. Arthur never stopped moving his lips as he worked, sucking hard enough to leave marks against the toned chest.

He could feel the warlock shaking, his pleasure playing havoc with his ability to hold his weight. He reached a little pink numb and bit down gently even as he entered. "Merlin!" he gasped. He felt the warlock adjust himself, finally having some small leverage, pushing down with his hips even as Arthur rose to thrust further in. Both men cried out once the King was fully seated.

Arthur barely had a chance to ride out the feeling before Merlin was drawing himself back up, then meeting his upward thrust again. It was awkward, but it presented a whole new view to Arthur that excited him beyond belief. As Merlin responded to the sensations pulsing through him, Arthur could feel the slight forward movement of those hips pushing from the wall, could feel Merlin's shaft sliding against his own sweat slicked chest- as the boy writhed for leverage. His face- eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and strain, mouth slightly open- was just another visual feast.

The King hastily let go of their shared connection. He'd never last, the dual feelings nearly sending him over, and let The Bond slip easily away. He kept his thrusts even, drawing out tortured cries from his lover who could never quite control enough of it to make his King move faster. His own breath was coming hard and fast, but he wouldn't stop. He took full advantage, nipping at skin, lightly kissing scars, and making several ownership marks that would riddle the canvas that was Merlin's chest for days. He left bite marks that forced cries of mixed pain and pleasure from the warlock. Where his hands were busy supporting them both, he allowed his mouth to touch everywhere it could. In this way, he satisfied his need to touch, his need to concentrate solely on the warlock, to imprint him on his senses.

He could feel Merlin shaking in his arms. A glance up showed thin arms struggling to hold their weight. He could either finish, or move their fun. "Let go," he commanded, ready for the added weight when Merlin obeyed, arching when the added weight pushed Arthur further inside him. Arthur tightened his hold to keep the younger man from attempting to move off of him.

Taking advantage, Arthur moved them both to the cot, laying the younger man down gently so that their still connected hips would rest on the edge while Arthur stood, pulling those legs over his shoulders. Merlin uttered an inarticulate cry when Arthur rolled his hips, going deeper than he'd been able to in their previously awkward position.

"Oh gods yes," Arthur moaned, feeling those hips meet him, watching the hands that were too far away to touch him scrabble to find purchase in the blankets. Merlin tossed his head to the side, crying out loudly as frustration met bliss in Arthur's steady pace even as he arched his body into it, begging silently for more. "Beautiful," Arthur groaned.

"Please…" Merlin begged, wanton, needing to be pushed over the edge he'd been riding. Arthur leaned forward slightly, thrusting in as deep as the boy could take, but never changing his pace, staying just out of reach. "Arthur!" Merlin cried out when the King batted away the hand that had been reaching to stroke himself, making his wishes clear.

"Soon, Love," he promised, moaning when Merlin curled up, intending to sit up to take control. He used a solid hand to push the boy back down. He used his shoulders to adjust the position of the legs over them, and changed his angle, driving into that spot inside.

Arthur shook with the effort of holding back, of maintaining the maddeningly even pace. It was exquisite, however, to watch the warlock come completely undone under his work. He could feel his own need climbing, was enjoying the slow build created by the pace though the audible and visual of his lover panting- nearly convulsing with sensations, pushed near to insanity lingering on a fine edge- had greatly threatened his restraint.

"Please… please… please…" Merlin gasped over and over, every movement of now taunt muscles shouting his desperation.

"You're so close," Arthur panted. "Gods! This is too good…" he moaned. The pearl that had been decorating the tip of Merlin's shaft finally began its journey down the heated skin- his lover driven to the point of sensitivity that even that slow moving sensation forced tears to his eyes. Knowing he couldn't push it any further, Arthur reached out, running light fingertips along the shaft, matching the dance of their light touches to his thrusts. Merlin mewled, pleaded, gasped and shuddered his way through the touch.

Angling himself once more, Arthur pulled out nearly all the way, driving himself back in even as his hand wrapped firmly around the leaking member, pulling hard.

He watched, fascinated, as Merlin screamed, arching high up even as Arthur worked to keep his hips down, as ropes of essence exploded from him. When the muscles inside clamped down tightly around him, Arthur couldn't hold back himself. "Merlin!" he screamed, emptying as deeply inside the younger man as he could get. Both men cried out their euphoria as waves crashed over them again and again.

Arthur rode out the waves, slightly rolling his hips even as he softened, drawing out Merlin's climax for as long as he could, grunting through the aftershocks that rippled the muscles still surrounding him. "Oh by the gods you _are_ magnificent," Arthur groaned, allowing himself to slip out of the shuddering body. He eased the boneless legs off his shoulders, letting them fall by either side of him as he leaned forward, bracing himself on his arms, to recapture lips that were slow to respond, still dazed by the force of their shared peak.

Chuckling he moved them so that he could lie down, pulling Merlin half over him. It was easy to pull the nearly limp arm around his stomach, tucking the raven mop onto his chest. He ran his fingertips lightly over the shoulders and back he could each, feeling each pant of warm breath against his own sweat chilled skin.

Finally the breathing eased out, and Merlin shifted slightly, throwing a leg over Arthur's and the arm around his abdomen tightened. "Are you back with me?" Arthur asked gently, now carding his fingers through sweat soaked locks. He'd been getting a little concerned with the continued silence. As awareness had returned to the warlock, so had tension. Merlin's silent nod in response didn't help. Arthur felt his own muscles tensing, wondering if he'd pushed it too far. He remembered the tears then, could feel their moisture on his skin. "Merlin," he started in concern, beginning to sit up. But his lover tightened his hold on him to keep him as he was.

"I'm fin- I'm okay," he corrected quickly, knowing Arthur had an inherent distrust in the word 'fine'. He sighed, satisfied, and content to be held while he enjoyed the post bliss occasional shiver from exhausted muscles. "That was just... new."

Arthur eased a little then, enjoying the dual sensations of Merlin's bare skin and his hair against his fingers. He hummed in agreement, sated on a level so deep he didn't think even _his_ fabled recovery time would be a factor. He'd never been so spent in his life. "Too new?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm not sure yet," Merlin answered slowly, honestly.

"But you're sure you're alright?" Arthur asked, still concerned, knowing he had unintentionally started the night in a dark place and worried his warlock hadn't truly been pushed past it. It was a risk they often took whenever they tried new methods. He couldn't explain his need now any better than he could then. He'd needed to worship the younger man, needed to brand that image in his mind. He couldn't do that if he'd been lost in the world that was even the slightest touch from his lover.

Merlin nodded against him, stretching his long body out against his King, settling back into his previous position. "Absolutely." He let his fingers trail over Arthur's chest and stomach, making silly patterns with them, enjoying the shivers that came from his simple touch. It felt a little brazen now- to touch what he'd been denied during the encounter. Definitely new.

Arthur laughed, finally relaxing fully with a sigh. "Thank you," he murmured. "I needed that."

"So long as you don't need it _too_ often," Merlin chuckled. "My sanity was hanging by a thread."

"Careful, Merlin, you're coming dangerously close to increasing my ego again," Arthur warned. He moved his fingers from Merlin's hair and instead laced them together with the hand that had been tracing his skin. He dropped a kiss to the raven head.

They remained silent, enjoying each other's company, their connection, their ability to touch and feel, bare skin to bare skin. Neither showed any renewed interest, content to simply hold each other. Merlin sighed, however, when he noticed that Arthur had not relaxed his tight hold on him. "You're worried about tomorrow," he guessed, knowing he'd hit the mark when Arthur's hand tightened on his, automatically bringing it up to his lips.

"I'm not worried, Merlin," Arthur confessed. "I'm terrified."

Merlin shook his head. "It's not our first time on the battlefield, Arthur. Someway, somehow, we're always the two left standing. It's going to be fine, my Love, my _King_. Everything will be alright."

"Do you remember," Arthur asked softly, "the first time I kissed you?"

Merlin nodded, smiling. "Not the best of circumstances, but I almost couldn't believe it. All those years of loving you in secret. We were fools not to see it in each other."

Arthur barked a short laugh. "I saw it, Merlin. Future knowledge, remember? I knew it. I was never brave enough to _do_ anything about it, though. All those years, wasted."

Merlin frowned, pushing himself up so he could look down at his golden King. "Then we'll have many more years to make it up to each other. If you noticed, I wasn't exactly the one to brave the first kiss either."

"Yeah why _weren't_ you?" Arthur asked with a smile, but Merlin could tell he was trying to use it as a diversion.

"I sincerely never considered that you would be interested," Merlin answered honestly. He leaned down, nipping Arthur's jaw a little before he took his King's lips in his own. He smiled. "I'm glad I was wrong."

"Hmmm," Arthur hummed, smiling as he reluctantly let go. "Me too."

"And we'll be here tomorrow night, Arthur," Merlin spoke confidently. "Doing the same."

"Swear it?" Arthur asked, turning frightened gold crowned steel to meet their azure match, looking to find proof of the confidence the warlock had in his voice.

Merlin smiled, nodding. "If not in this life, then the next. We're bonded, Arthur. And you made sure not even Death could separate us. Just because we're not side by side tomorrow, it doesn't mean we're not together in this. Consider it more fighting back to back."

Arthur nodded, reaching up to grab the mouth, stopping it from speaking further. His tongue darted in, seeking to taste everything as though the last drop of water was there. Merlin responded in kind, reaffirming his confidence that they _would_ be together again, come what may.


	8. Chapter 8

The tent rippled in the slight breeze that carried the early morning chill with it. The sun was barely beginning to make its way up into the sky, that rare small window of time when Moon and Sun shared the same space. Arthur hoped it was a sign to come, a sign of affirmation that no matter how impossible the task, two could always find a way to be one. He looked around at those gathered here, their friends, their brothers. Some may not see the end of the day and his heart ached for it, even as it hardened in hatred against the Saxons that had forced this, against his twisted Sister and her obsession with his lover, even against Destiny herself, the final twist of _that_ betrayal as sharp as any dagger in his breast.

Memories in the back of his mind stirred then, reminding him of another battle. Of the pain that had been Merlin's while he stood and told his King he wouldn't be with him on this one, knowing he was useless until he got his power back. All too clearly he remembered the rage, the frustration that he had failed in his destiny to protect Arthur, holding him as he died from a shard of sword in his heart. Camlann had been avoided, thankfully, but those memories were still clear. He shook his head. This battle would _not_ turn out the same as Camlann, he vowed. This would be different. They _would_ all greet another sunrise together!

A rustle brought his attention to the entrance as Merlin came into the tent. Arthur glanced at his side, smirking. "A sword, Merlin? I thought you said they were more work than it was worth."

"Well, you went to all the trouble of teaching me to use it," Merlin snarked back. "You're just jealous it looks better on me."

"Excuse me?" Arthur snorted.

"Actually, Princess, he's right," Gwaine threw in from behind them, nodding. "Those long legs look perfectly natural with steel beside them. And it stands out against those fancy black leather pants and velvet shirt," he teased, throwing a grin at the warlock to take the sting out. Everyone in Camelot knew the Queen Regent took personal pride in suitably dressing the Prince Consort, and his manservant, Ian, was always careful to show his rank. A habit that had been formed when several Knights got the mistaken impression that the warlock's titles were empty. Gwaine had taken great personal pleasure in correcting their assumptions.

Arthur reached over and punched the Knight even as Merlin laughed. "You just remember exactly who those legs belong to," he growled. He brought the Knight to him in a hug. "Bring them back safe, you hear? There's no soul on earth I trust more with this task."

Gwaine nodded solemnly, returning the embrace. "You know I won't take my eyes off them," he swore.

Merlin shook his head, moving to shake hands with Sir Leon. "Good luck, my friend."

He was surprised when the Knight pulled him into a tight hug. "Good luck, little brother," Leon answered and would forever deny the crack in his voice.

Elyan came up next, not even bothering to pretend a hand shake, enveloping the boy in a sincere hug. "You make us proud," Elyan commanded. "Give that Witch everything she deserves."

No sooner had Merlin nodded and the former blacksmith moved away did Percival engulf him. The normally reserved Knight held nothing back as he squeezed. "Lancelot would be proud of you," he murmured. "He would give you a speech about you being the bravest of us all." The large man pulled back, keeping his hands on the warlock's shoulders. "I will say only, see you at the victory feast."

Merlin blinked, nodding. "I'll make sure to save you a dance," he teased with a grin. He turned to Gwen, and she ran into his arms, clinging to him. "Hey, it's alright," he soothed. "Everything is going to be alright."

She shook her head. "Morgana is so dangerous, Merlin," she whispered. "I'm afraid. Afraid for Arthur without you by his side."

"I will _always_ protect him, Gwen."

"I know. That's why I'm afraid. I don't want to lose you, either of you. You're my best friends, my brothers."

There was nothing to say to that, so he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back before you know it," he assured.

He turned then, surprised to see Ian standing with his cloak and circlet in hand. He shook his head. "I don't think-"

"You go to battle, Your Highness, though there is no armor to prove your rank. I will not see you go as less than you are. Allow me, my Lord?" Without waiting, the manservant flung the cloak around Merlin's shoulders, tying it expertly. Merlin stood patiently while the servant carefully placed the circlet. Once he was done, Merlin grinned, and twirled a quick circle.

"So will I suit?" he asked jokingly, a reminder of another time, another place.

Ian inspected him as carefully now as he had then, finally nodding. "If you remember the status these attribute to you, then you will represent us well." He offered his master a smile. "You don't face her as a servant any longer, My Lord. Remember, you are a Prince, and should stand proudly so. Remember there are few any longer to whom you bow." Ian offered him a deep bow, then. "It's an honor and privilege to serve, Prince Merlin. I look forward to many more years under your employ." He frowned. "And I will be most displeased to have to make repairs to your fine velvet tunic. It's difficult to work with." He shook his head. "I told her the linen would be better."

And then he swept out of the tent, having his duties in the infirmary tents to see to.

"He's a strange one," Mithian commented as she moved over to him.

Merlin smiled, nodding. "He is. Reminds me a lot of me when I was in his place." He looked to the Princess. "I wish I had some reassurance to give you, that Nemeth will stand strong even when this battle is done."

Mithian laughed. "I was part of the plan, remember? Stone can be rebuilt, crops replanted." She turned then, throwing her arms around him. "You've been such a dear friend these many years. That, _that_ I can't replace. Come back to us safely, Merlin."

"I will," he promised, hugging her tightly. His smile had a little regret in it as he turned to whisper in her ear. "I have hope still to give you, if you can bear the price."

She drew back, opening her mouth to question him when Eliam ducked into the tent. "Everyone is in place, Sire, your Highness."

Arthur looked to his lover. "Ready?"

Merlin took a deep breath, flashing his usual grin at his King. "Let's give them Hell."

_**MERLIN101010101010101010MERLIN** _

Merlin closed his eyes, feeling the wind against his face as he stood in front of the walls of Nemeth. He let himself feel the stability of the earth beneath his boots. The wind carried the faintest scent of the sea. The rising sunlight felt warm on his cooled skin. He opened himself to those elements, to the magics sleeping in the trees around them, to the life that moved every living thing around them. As he had before, he followed the ancient lines of his magic, followed it to the source, drinking deeply of it.

"You're sure you can do this?" Arthur asked beside him, a little startled when Merlin opened his eyes to look at him. In those eyes swirled the rainbow of magics the younger man was taking in mixed with the pure molten gold that was his own gift. It reminded him very much of the time Emrys had returned them to their proper timeline. Shivering the King looked deeper and sighed in relief when he still saw _his_ Merlin looking back at him.

"This is the easy part," he smiled sadly. Then he looked up at the battlements. He could see the walls lined with hundreds of men, all shouting and roaring at the two strange men standing alone in the middle of the field, the Allied Army standing unmoving a fair distance behind them. "Surprising how easy to take so many lives. I hope it's worth it, in the end."

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, and- not caring about the several thousand men who could see them- wrapped his hand around the back of the raven head, pulling the younger man into a desperate kiss. The warlock smiled as Arthur reached through their Bond, enveloped both of them in it, swallowing his lovers' gasp when their shared emotions wrapped around them, when the additional powers Merlin was holding merged with their connection. Arthur reached for the gloved hand, entwining his fingers with Merlin's, holding them tightly against his chest as their lips danced. The King finally pulled back, putting his forehead to that of his lover. " _Promise_ me I'll see you again."

"This isn't goodbye," Merlin murmured, shuddering as the power inside him shifted impatiently. He felt Arthur release the power their Bond gave him, unable to bear the shared fear neither would voice, but rippled beneath the surface. "You have to go."

"I love you," Arthur growled out, spinning away to trot toward with place with the Allied Army without waiting for an answer.

Merlin watched him go. Raising a hand toward the departing King, he whispered, " _Bewariebewariġe_ " as his eyes flashed. He felt the protection spell settle on his lover, and sighed, turning back toward his goal. He could see the Saxons on the walls, laughing with each other, pointing at him. He didn't care, and even smiled back at them knowing they couldn't see.

He knelt on one knee, closing his eyes, leaning forward to place a hand on the ground. The powers he had been gathering swirled around him, pulled at him, whispered to him. For this, he needed no spell, and he struggled to balance the magics. He didn't want to level the city, after all. He concentrated, cocking his head when he found the difference in the layers of the earth under his hand. With a yell, his eyes flew open and he _pushed_ …

**MERLIN10101010101010101MERLIN**

Leon snorted at some of the remarks from a couple of Lothian men standing next to him at the display of affection between the two men in the field, commenting on the slightness of the stature of the lone man standing before those walls, his cloak shifting in the breeze the only movement. He felt Elyan tense beside him, but shook his head at the young Knight.

"Nothing more than fools, to think him weak because he's small," Leon told him, loud enough to be heard. "I'll wager two gold coins they'll need new britches by the time _our_ Warlock is done," Leon stressed the claim Camelot put on him, that he was very much a part of _their_ ranks and they were proud of it.

The men of Camelot laughed, while those of Lothian snarled at them. But then Arthur was close enough to hear and they all stilled. Nothing in his demeanor showed any room for tolerance. When Arthur took his place next to him, Leon offered his King a dip of his head.

Silently, they stood by and watched when Merlin knelt. Leon instinctively moved forward a step when blue flames burst from around him, but Arthur held him back, shaking his head. "He's just tapering off some power, Leon. He's fine." He'd seen it once before- then an illusion used to convince the King of an evil power. "He's trying to balance what he's taken in."

Leon hesitated, sharing glances with the other Knights of Camelot. It wasn't the first display of power they'd seen from the younger man, but it was the first time he'd burst into flames though they didn't seem to be burning him. For all they'd joked with the Lothian men they knew that asking this of the young warlock was not done lightly and would come with a price.

"Arthur, we'll _all_ be here for him," Leon reassured the King. They had all seen Merlin take the weight of the world onto himself in the past. Had seen how much events had the power to hurt the contradiction that was the strong, powerful warlock, and the fragile, caring young man. They had watched him battle the darkness inside him. "We'll get him back when this is all over, I swear it."

Arthur nodded, accepting his oath, watched Merlin's head shoot up and yelled, "Be ready!" even as he settled his own footing, pleased the shout was carried back, echoing quickly through the ranks. He didn't know exactly what the warlock was going to do but Merlin had warned them all that whatever it was, it would be massive, and there was a chance that a small bit of it may backlash on them.

It started low, like a storm coming from a great distance. The scent of freshly disturbed soil carried to them as the the ground beneath their feet rolled, building itself up. Clouds gathered above the young man, turning dark and grey. Then the earth in front of Merlin shot up, rolling across the field toward the Nemeth walls like a great wave. They watched as the entire city shook, as men tumbled from the walls. As the earth beneath their feet erupted, the sound of the explosions reaching even their ears. Lightning bolts came from those clouds, striking in various points in the city. Murmurs of awe broke up from the men around him, but he ignored them.

Arthur felt his heart in his throat when one of those bolts struck precariously close to the young warlock. He could vaguely sense through their Bond the finite control his lover had over the magics he was wielding. Screams of pain and terror echoed across the field, and he swallowed, knowing how much louder they would be to the man causing them. "Forgive me, Merlin," he whispered brokenly.

They all watched as a tunnel of wind was drawn from those clouds, surrounding the sorcerer as he rose, cloak whipping viciously around him, and walked forward. Arrows were coming in waves now- the Saxons finally understanding the threat- but none penetrated the funnel. Arthur couldn't breathe. Why had he _ever_ thought this would be be worth it? He had fought countless battles in his life, many without the aid of magic. Why had he thought this would be easier? His mind whispered to him of the lives this was saving. That every life the sorcerer took was one less that could raise a sword against his own men. He clung to it as Merlin got closer to the city walls.

Arthur saw wisps of greens, browns, blues come from every direction. Even without the Bond, he could feel the power being drawn from various sources around them. Felt Merlin's Call tug even at his own limited gifts. He heard the gasps from the men around him, knew they could feel it too. The air rippled with it, like the electricity that hung before a severe thunder storm. His lover was a magnificent sight to behold, standing tall in his element. The King shivered as his mind supplied the image of those azure blue eyes swallowed by surging molten gold, bright against the pale skin and raven locks.

"Shields!" Arthur called out, readying his own as Merlin extended his arms to the side, as the magics swirled faster and faster. They heard the powerful yell from the warlock as he shoved his arms forward, flinging the build up as a massive pulse that moved out of him in a circle. While the greatest force of it was thrown forward, obliterating several feet of Nemeth's thick stone walls, moving forward into the city the backlash washed over their own army like a strong gale, forcing them to duck behind their shields as rocks, dirt, branches and everything it had swept up in its wake was thrown at them. Several were knocked off their feet, but bounced back up quickly enough. The deadly intentions of the wave didn't touch them- though he heard murmurs change from awe to fear from the men.

Arthur looked up as soon as the wave passed him, heard from the cheering coming from behind him that the others had noticed the gaping hole in the walls, the layers of bodies strewn around them. His eyes passed it all, though, looking desperate only for one thing.

There. Merlin stood in the clearing, turned, gave them a wave, then ran off to where Gwaine, Eliam and a thousand Dumnonian lancers would be waiting to escort him into the city.

Leon threw a grin at the stunned and disbelieving faces next to him, and thought he'd won his wager to Elyan. "CHARGE!" he yelled out as Arthur signaled, and eight thousand men and horse took to the field. The Saxons were still stumbling out of the wrecked walls a few at a time, dazed. Lifting his eyes to the sky as he ran, Leon sent a quick prayer of safety his little brother, his King, and his fellow Knights, prayed they would meet again.

**MERLIN10101010110101MERLIN**

Merlin sighed as he took the reins of his horse from Gwaine, who was shaking his head.

"Did you leave any alive for the rest of them?" the Knight inquired as they swung themselves into their saddles.

"Enough to keep them busy for a bit, even the odds. We should outnumber them two to one now," Merlin answered, turning his horse. "They should consider themselves lucky I know there are Nemeth citizens in that city."

"Could you really have leveled it?" Gwaine asked skeptically.

Merlin shook his head. "No, but I could have wiped out every life in it." He wasn't boasting and took no pleasure in the knowledge. He heeled his horse. "Yah!"

They rode quickly toward the opposite wall he had damaged, where he knew Morgana would be looking for him. Time was short, and it wouldn't take the priestess long to figure out Merlin was no longer with the army. Using such powerful magics would have drawn her attention, and the lack of further demonstrations wouldn't be questioned while she thought he was recovering. She wouldn't have been wrong. Exhaustion was already coursing through him, but he pushed it away viciously. Still, that window was small.

As they approached the city again, Merlin swore, seeing the large numbers still on the walls. Apparently they were so confident in their numbers that they hadn't felt the need to call for reinforcements to his initial attack. That part of the plan had failed. He slowed his horse, thinking, weighing the risks against the outcome they needed to achieve here.

"Mate, if you do anything, it'll draw her eye right to us and we're not close enough," Gwaine pointed out, having long experience with the consideration on his friends face.

"Your Highness, if I may?" Eliam asked on his other side, waiting for his nod. "King Arthur is attacking from one side. If I took my men and attacked this wall, it would merely look like a flank maneuver. Not entirely an unusual tactic in these situations."

Merlin shook his head. "It would be suicide for every man who made that run."

Eliam sent his eyes to the sky, folding his hands in prayer. "Ah, to join the Glorious Dead would be a great blessing indeed, your Highness. However, since the goal is to see you safely to the Citadel, I'm afraid we must wait for our turn. I was thinking if we could build a small catapult, then when it fired and a small section of the wall crumbled, it would not be so obvious." He sighed regretfully. "Though if there are still so many, it may be unlikely we could do more than hold them here while you went on, Your Highness- a solution I sincerely doubt your King would approve of."

Merlin shot a look at Gwaine, who was looking around, then turned back to him. "It could work if you can speed it up with some of your tricks. There's enough wood. And I see some large stones… yeah. It could work." He grinned. "He's right, though, Princess won't like it at all."

Merlin nodded reluctantly, realizing everyone was waiting on his command. "Let's do it."

**MERLIN10010101010101MERLIN**

Arthur withdrew his sword from the belly of the man he had just rammed it into, turning to meet another. They were slowly inching their way into the gap that Merlin had created. The Saxons had been stunned just long enough, as had been the plan, but were recovering a little more quickly than they'd anticipated. Not for the first time he wished he knew how Merlin was progressing.

The warlock had expressly forbidden him from using the Bond to track him. He'd made an excellent point that neither of them could afford the potential distraction. Arthur regretted agreeing now. Especially since it was quite obvious that Merlin had placed some kind of a protection spell on him. Weapons that got close enough to his armor seemed to slide off of it, almost always leaving him an opening to take advantage of. He slashed through another defender, taking a moment to glance at the army around him. Swords and lances clashed everywhere, but so far he was gratified to see more Saxon dead than his own. Merlin had done a fair job in decreasing their numbers.

The sight when they'd reached the walls hadn't been pretty. Merlin had done extensive damage, and likely killed thousands not only on the wall, but those gathered behind it as well. His men were forced to climb over layers of crushed, burnt, bloodied bodies. The smell, already, was horrific. He was glad his lover hadn't stayed to inspect it. He didn't think the boy would ever get away from these nightmares. The attacking Saxons didn't seem to be affected at all by it, having little care for the dead they were using as cover or climbing over.

Time had no meaning in battle. There was only parry and attack, move forward. The sound of metal on metal rang in his ears and through to his bones, singing a familiar battle song to him. His blood pulsed with it, his trained muscles never failing him. The Song reminded him that he was alive, that life was precious. It drove him forward meeting one challenge after another as his heart pounded.

Step by step, they moved into the City.

**MERLIN10101010101101010MERLIN**

"No, Mate," Gwaine spoke firmly, throwing an arm across Merlin's chest to stop him from running over to help the two hundred men charging a small gap in the wall, the others holding back, waiting for their chance. "We can't help them." It hadn't taken long to assemble the weapon, and passing the spell along the earth underneath it seemed to be effective. Only a small section of the wall had collapsed, enough to create a bottleneck for those coming out as well as those going in. "If we do that, then this, what they've done, is for nothing."

He jerked as he felt Morgana wielding her own power. How had he not recognized this feeling sooner? Her magic always slicked along his own, dark and evil and making him feel ill. Fireballs and bolts of lightning crashed into the main force, giving him some relief to know that he hadn't yet been noticed on this side. Debris from the walls he destroyed flew through the air, and he felt frustration build in him.

He should be there, with Arthur, protecting them from that onslaught. And now he was here, forced to stand by and watch the men- who had literally fought amongst themselves for the right to escort him- take up an ultimately useless charge. Because _he_ hadn't done enough in his first attacks. Because the Saxons had not weakened their other positions to face what he had done. He should have done _more_. And yet, how many had he killed? How many lives had he taken? How could he have done it so easily? He swallowed, closing his eyes, trying to resolve the conflict raging through him.

"Merlin, don't do that to yourself," Gwaine growled. "This is war. There isn't a one of us who wouldn't be here anyway, whether you were with us to tip the scales or not. You saved more lives than you'll ever know, Mate. Let's go finish this!"

The warlock nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. He had to place faith in the spell he'd placed on his lover when he'd turned away from him. Arthur would likely kill him for doing it, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd know instantly if his King took any severe wounds, had hopefully done enough to keep the warrior alive. Arthur was never more in his glory than in the pulse of battle and could sometimes be reckless when he moved in the rhythm of it, always pushing forward.

Arrows rained from the undamaged sections, but Eliam was, it appeared, a master strategist. For every man that fell, another took his place, seemingly coming from nowhere. They hadn't taken into account, unfortunately, the men stationed on the other side of the walls when they'd devised their hasty plan- or at least, _he_ hadn't. He had the feeling that the Battle Master had, and had conveniently 'forgotten' to mention it to his Prince. Now that Eliam's men had engaged, it would be victory or defeat. There would be no chance to break away. Merlin tried very hard to convince himself that the Saxons had not done the same on the section he had wantonly destroyed. Tried to convince himself that the only lives lost were those defenders he could see. He was, he decided, an even worse liar when he was trying to lie to himself.

It had been Gwaine who'd grabbed him ushering him flat along the wall, toward a small grate, obviously once a drainage no longer in use. Convinced him that the faster they made it to Morgana, the more lives would be saved. Because he needed to, he'd let himself believe it- at least until this was all over.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and the grate crumbled quietly to dust. Without hesitating, Gwaine stuck his head in, then nodded to him. "It's bone dry, and goes for quite a bit before I see light." Merlin issued a growl when the Knight didn't wait, simply crawled inside. The Knight had a tendency to think of himself as Merlin's own personal body guard. The habit had been established many years ago, in the beginning of their friendship. He wished the fighting man would pay more attention to his own safety. Ironic, he thought, considering Arthur often made the same complaint of _him_.

Crawling inside, Merlin whispered to release the concealing spell he'd been using to keep him and Gwaine invisible. He'd kept it small. They weren't invisible so much as eyes would slide past them, not 'seeing' more than a ripple of air against the stone. He sneezed on the dust that had gathered over the years.

"Just like old times, eh?" Gwaine grinned back at him.

Merlin sneezed again. "Oh yeah."

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

"Leon!" Arthur shouted over the din of battle around him. His second in command finished off his opponent, looking up at Arthur's call. The King pointed at the main gate. "Take it!" Leon nodded, beginning to gather the men closest to him.

The King ducked, barely missing having his head lopped off by a battle axe. Those axes were proving to be a challenge. Camelot shields would survive only one blow from them- often still breaking the arm of their bearers. If nothing else came from this, Arthur had to admit he'd learned a respect for the Saxon warriors. They were fierce, strong, and skilled. He didn't doubt they could wield those heavy axes for hours.

His sword flashed again. And they were endless! For every one they cut down, two more seemed to take their place. He risked a glance around, pleased to see his men following his orders to clear out any citizens they came across, sending them to the Catacombs. He didn't know what Merlin's final trick would be, but the warlock had made it clear all innocents needed to be cleared from the city. It was their primary goal for being here at all.

Arthur knew it was close to evening. If Merlin didn't hurry, they'd be fighting in the dark. He'd set up a reinforcement force outside the walls, and was beginning to think it was time to start ordering a rotation. He could see his men were exhausted and were starting to make deadly mistakes.

"Come on, Merlin," he growled.

**MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN**

Merlin gasped, grabbing his arm as he fell against the wall of the staircase they were climbing as pain shot through it.

"Merlin?" Gwaine whispered, having noticed. He moved his body so he could look up the stairs as well as back at Merlin, planting his feet and ready to defend should anything come from either direction. They'd come across several groups of guards. Merlin had, hours ago, decided it was even more horrifying to take a life with steel than with magic. Gwaine had been insistent that everyone they left alive was one that could alert Morgana.

"I'm fine," Merlin ground out, looking at his glove. Blood glistened on it. Arthur had taken a fairly serious wound. They were in trouble. "We need to go," he insisted, pushing himself off the wall and motioning Gwaine forward. Sighing, he dropped his sword. It was too heavy now for his tired body, and he'd never been skilled with it anyway. Especially after his hands had been so badly damaged. Now, with his arm having absorbed Arthur's wound, he had little hope of doing more than flailing it.

The Knights, and Arthur, had done their best, but he would never be truly proficient with a sword. He shifted his weight subtly, feeling the reassuring weight of the long daggers sheathed at the small of his back. It had been Leon who'd discovered his slight frame wasn't really suited to a heavy sword. With his naturally quick reflexes, however, he'd picked up wielding double daggers quickly. So far as he knew, only Leon and Gwaine knew about them. He'd been immensely grateful to both of them. Leon had even gone so far as to have custom hilts made for them, so Merlin's scarred and often stiff hands could grip it tightly enough to hang onto. Given Arthur's usual derision for close combat weapons, they'd all mutually decided that the King's orders to 'teach him to use a real weapon' were being fulfilled and that details weren't necessary. Given how tired his magic was, he was suddenly grateful Arthur had insisted on him having something else to rely on to defend himself.

He had to assume Morgana was in the tower, as his vision had told him. Her attacks would have to be directed, so she'd need a fair view of the battlefield, which was the reasoning for his 'hunch' that he gave Gwaine. He was glad, honestly, that she was using her magic. She'd be almost as tired as he was. He had no idea how long it had been since this morning. It felt like days, though was likely closer to hours. Their progress had been slow with many skirmishes along the way. They'd taken measures to hide their steps and path. Bodies weren't always easy to hide.

"Guards!" Gwaine hissed at him, and he drew his blades, carefully following the Knight around the corner. He was glad the man had insisted on coming with him, knew without his strength, Merlin would have wasted precious time trying to find an impossible way around so many guards. Foolish, he thought now, twisting expertly. He used the cuffs Arthur had once given him as vambraces to deflect, wincing when a sword struck them, but it never failed to leave his opponent's heart open to his other free hand. Without the lumbering sword to slow him down, they were finished in minutes, though he took no pride in the new efficiency of his killing abilities. At least with the sword they had a chance. With his blades and small size, he had the advantage in the tight quarters.

He closed his eyes, adding the six lives they'd just taken to the running tally in his mind. It was war. He knew that, knew there would be unavoidable casualties. Each one ripped a piece of him away, however, and he couldn't seem to stop adding those numbers together. He pretended not to see the look of mixed respect and sympathy in his companion's expression as he cleaned the blood from his blades on their victims clothes.

They moved forward, quietly but quickly. The patrols were small, but rarely alone. Gwaine was hyper vigilant, but his eyes danced with mirth. Merlin couldn't help but smile. The rogue lived for a good fight, and while the man had confessed he didn't like taking a life, he didn't think of it much when he had to- at least nothing a good ale wouldn't take care of. He so deeply wished he could have been built like that. While he wasn't foolish enough to think battles didn't affect warriors, they had a natural protection in their mindset that the warlock sorely wished he'd been able to develop.

**MERLIN10101010111MERLIN**

Gwaine shot a look back at the warlock. The boy was tiring, he could tell. Merlin was impressively efficient with those long daggers, but they made the kill more personal- something his friend _didn't_ need- so when he'd abandoned the sword for them, Gwaine knew time was running out. He'd tried to take out as many as he could, but it wasn't in Merlin to stand still while a friend was in danger. As much as he'd love to force the younger man to stand back, to preserve his energies for the battle to come, he knew it would be a waste of breath.

They were almost to the tower. Vaguely, he wondered how the other battles were doing. He didn't regret insisting on accompanying the warlock. His friend needed his sword- especially where he was limited in the magic he could wield without bringing attention to himself. And it wasn't like he wouldn't have his own stories to share at the victory feast. They'd crawled through tunnels, snuck around Saxons, fought with patrols, hidden in a haystack and more. They were both coated in dust, dirt, and sweat. No, their adventure wouldn't be without its own tales.

He was less than impressed, however, when he'd seen the wound appear on Merlin's arm. He wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant. He'd seen it before. Merlin was _still_ protecting Arthur. The King would be livid when he discovered it- which was only a matter of time. They'd been fools to think the warlock would leave Arthur's side without some kind of assurance in place. For once, he was thankful for the skill of his King. Arthur in the heat of true battle was a thing to behold, the Knight would admit only to himself, a dancing devil of steel few could catch. He hoped for both their sakes that held true.

He saw the door of the tower, and breathed a sigh of relief even as he motioned to Merlin. The boy took out those deadly daggers again, and they moved as one. The bodies of the two guards by the door fell silently to the floor, having no chance at uttering a sound before their throats had opened.

He watched the boy, concerned since the loss of life in defense was one thing, but a deliberate cut to the throat was a deeply intimate matter. He saw only hard determination on his face, knew the warlock had shoved his own heart away, walling it up for protection against what was behind that door. They'd come to it, then.

**MERLIN101011011001010110MERLIN**

Arthur leaned against the wall of shields, having rotated out. He needed some water and a quick rest. He was pleased to see his orders had been followed, and the resting soldiers had erected a line of shields driven into the ground to protect them from any further attacks from the walls. Those were far and few between. The Allied Army had managed to become enough of a distraction that most of the Saxons were being sent to ground to deal with the charge. His heart squeezed for the amount of soldiers lying on the ground, wounded, but it wasn't as bad as he had feared. The numbers were fewer than he'd expected, but the injuries far worse. Those axes were made to remove limbs, and had not failed their design.

He somehow wasn't surprised to see Artemis working with them with the other servants and citizens that they'd rescued. Some had gone on to the catacombs while it seemed some had chosen to stay and help. The old druid had been supposed to stay with the tents at the catacombs. Apparently he had disobeyed those orders and joined them directly on the field.

He looked at the setting sun. "So much for _that_ promise, Love," he muttered, shaking his head, gratefully accepting a flask from one of the soldiers as he walked toward his friend. He desperately prayed that Merlin wouldn't break any of the others he'd made. The more time that passed, the more likely it was that the boy had come across his own challenges and obstacles.

Artemis looked up. "Arthur," he greeted calmly.

"Artemis. Long way from the tents," Arthur returned casually.

"I am always where I am needed most, Sire. Ian is efficiently managing the Catacombs."

Arthur sighed tiredly. "As long as you're here, what's the report?"

Artemis stood, giving him a critical eye. "I have no count on the dead, Sire, but the wounded are relatively few, considering. Perhaps one hundred and fifty, many who will never lift a weapon again. Of those, twenty five will not survive the night. I am making them as comfortable as I can. And you? The battle?"

Arthur shook his head. "They just keep coming, Artemis. How they ever got so many in the city I'll never know. Rodor was a fool to let this go on so long! We're holding our own- we've taken the lower town on our side. I've received reports that Eliam's forces are fighting on the west side of the City. For a culture of warriors that consider death the most glorious of adventures, they are holding despite being severely outnumbered."

"And Merlin?" Artemis asked quietly, hearing the frustration in Arthur's voice. He had been part of the plans, knew Eliam's men were supposed to have escorted Merlin all the way to the Citadel. He could see the fear in the King's eyes, see the uncertainty, knowing that plan had been abandoned, worried about _why_.

Arthur swallowed. He'd been pushing that to the back of his mind. "The last report I had, he and Gwaine took advantage of the distraction of Eliam's forces and slipped away. We've heard nothing since. Fighting all over the city, but no one has seen them."

"Well, let's take a look at that arm while you're here," Artemis sighed, motioning toward a slice in the King's chainmaille.

Confused, Arthur looked down, and blinked. He hadn't even noticed! "It doesn't hurt."

"Battle Blood does strange things to the mind. Let me see anyway." Artemis grabbed hold of his arm, gently peeling away the maille.

"Merlin did something. Weapons seem to slide off my armor whenever they come close. It's saved me a few times."

"It appears, Sire, that he did a good deal more than that," Artemis sighed. He let the arm go. "Any weapon that could sheer chainmaille should have left more than a nasty scratch."

Arthur frowned, immediately looking to his arm. Sure enough, the layers were cut clean through, but on his skin there was merely a long, shallow, red cut, barely deep enough to bleed. "Damnit Merlin!" he cursed. He looked desperately at the druid. "What are the odds that what he's done is healing in nature?"

Artemis shrugged. "I think you and I both know the boy better than that. The good news is that there is a wound at all, which means he's only absorbing half of what you take." He sighed. "I'll clean it to be sure, but I can't spare the bandages for such a thing."

"If he survives this, I'll _kill_ him," Arthur growled.


	9. Chapter 9

Taking a deep breath, he cast a glance at his companion, waited for the answering nod. When it came, Merlin pushed the door open with a wave of his hand, pleased to see Morgana startle for a moment before her face twisted in hatred.

"Emrys," she hissed. She glanced next to him, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sir Gwaine?" She looked around frantically. "Where's my brother?"

"Currently occupied with wiping the floor with your puppets," Gwaine answered smoothly, his eyes locking on the other occupant of the room. King Lot stood off to the side, his sword drawn, but clearly waiting for Morgana's command. There was no question they were working together and no question either of who was in charge.

Lot snorted. "Even with your so-called Allied army, we outnumber you."

"That's all right. Princess only has to keep them busy until we're done with you lot, Lot!" Gwaine chortled at his own humor. Merlin rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop his own grin. He could always count on the rogue. The more dangerous the situation, the more the Knight insisted on treating it as irreverently as possible. It warmed his heart.

"It's a trick!" Morgana hissed. "My brother would _never_ send Emrys from his side at a time like this. Finish the Knight and then go find him!"

Gwaine glanced at Merlin for permission, received a nod in return, and drew his sword, advancing on the King of Essetir even as Merlin walked toward Morgana.

"You've underestimated Arthur, _again_ , Morgana. It's becoming a habit, it seems," Merlin pointed out.

"You won't trick me, Emrys. You wouldn't leave him any more than he'd leave you. If Lot fails, I'll hunt him down myself, show him your still beating heart in my hand!"

He looked at her, saddened by the hatred in her voice, the joy in describing the pain she would cause them. "We can still end this. We can work together to achieve all you've dreamed of. A life where magic is balanced, equal." There was a part of him that would always feel responsible for what she'd become, believing his actions had driven her. He wasn't unaware of the strain of living under constant fear of death- and that had been Uther- not him. But he'd played his part in adding to it if only by staying silent, by not offering her the kind, supporting words to let her know she wasn't alone.

He could see that his plea never penetrated the madness in her eyes. There was nothing left of his once friend, and in his heart he mourned the passing of that vibrant young woman for the last time. There was nothing left in her to redeem, no part of her still capable of forgiveness on any level. He let tears track down his cheeks, whispering in his mind a silent goodbye even as she goaded him, giving voice to the poison inside her. He had loved her, once.

"There are no great powers that send you this time, Emrys, no message that can stop me," Morgana spat. "You don't even have your precious Arthur to protect you this time. I _will_ take your life." She threw up her hands, throwing fireballs from them. He deflected easily enough.

"I have no wish to take yours," he replied, needing her to know that, deflecting another volley. Even as he spoke, he gathered his resolve. There was no part of his friend left in this creature. "But I _will_ do whatever I have to, to protect my King, to protect Albion, I will pay any price."

"I will _destroy_ you!" she screeched at him. "I will destroy everything you are, everything you care for!" Her insanity let loose in all its glory at long last, driven by the curse that was foreknowledge of one's destiny, one's end. He could find nothing but pity in his heart, but she was a threat to everything he loved, and there was no part of him that could allow that threat to continue.

He rolled deftly out of the way of an energy push she sent at him. "So be it," he said quietly, letting the molten gold bring his eyes to life.

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

Arthur nearly fell when the sword he'd parried dropped away, its wielder having come to a stunned, complete stop. He looked around- saw all the fighting had stopped- then followed the gazes upward, knowing in his heart where it would take him. Through the windows of the tower came flashes of light, of fire, of lightning. Great booms echoed in the sudden silence of the battle. One part of him breathed a sigh of relief that Merlin had made it that far. The rest of him tensed, anxious for his lover, though he pushed it aside when he saw the largest of his Knights running up to him.

"Sire," Percival spoke to him in the break. "The citizens have been evacuated. There shouldn't be any left in the City."

Arthur nodded at the tower. "It's begun. Be ready." _Be steadfast, Love_ , he prayed to the tower.

Then the Saxons seemed to overcome their surprise, raising their weapons once again as slowly sounds of steel began to once again carry through the city. Their brief respite was done, Arthur raising his sword just in time.

**MERLIN10101010101010101MERLIN**

Merlin sagged. He'd been right in what he'd told Arthur. He was inherently more powerful, but Morgana knew things he did not. His side burned where a bolt of lightning had stuck him- something he was unaware could be done inside, thinking always it needed access to the energy stored in clouds. He'd been barely dodging attacks he hadn't even known were possible, and already he was trembling with exhaustion. She knew _so_ _much_! He had tried flinging her back, but that trick didn't seem to work on her anymore, not while her defenses were strong. _How_ had she countered it?

Vaguely he could hear the clash of steel as Gwaine and Lot continued their fight on the other side of the large room.

"You're getting tired, Emrys," Morgana gloated, and he barely had time to roll out of the away of another bolt, panting as he came up on one knee, channeling his own bolt- he was a fast study, if nothing else- toward her.

" _Ástríce_!"

She managed to deflect most of it, but the tail end caught her on the shoulder, and she staggered back. "So are you," he answered through gritted teeth. The trouble was Gwaine. He was holding back on his more powerful attacks fearing the Knight would get caught in them, and he had so few others in his arsenal. If this continued much longer, Morgana was going to kill him off just pecking at him. His only only saving grace was her confidence in winning, in preserving her strengths to take out the soldiers outside once she'd finished with him. The longer he managed to stay alive, the less of her energies she was saving. It would also leave him wide open.

He had no choice, he decided. As much as he hated to take the fight away from him, he _had_ to get the Knight out of the equation- and Lot seemed more than capable of holding his own against the skilled fighter- being far more rested than the rogue. Taking a deep breath, he turned, sending a powerful fireball toward the traitor King when Gwaine stepped back to defend. Even as it engulfed the King, Morgana lashed out, and Merlin went flying- hard- into the wall behind him. When he fell onto the solid stone floor, he landed on his front, feeling several ribs break from the impact. He gasped as air was driven out of his lungs, squeezed his eyes as pain radiated down his now severely bruised back when he tried- and failed- to push himself back up.

He lost what little breath he'd been able to draw in trying to shout a warning to the Knight, but it was too late. He watched, helplessly, as Gwaine also flew back into the other wall, even as Lot ran screaming toward Morgana for help. Being who she was, she didn't hesitate to kick him out the window behind her, shattering it. Mere seconds had passed, but it all seemed to move in slow motion to the warlock.

Merlin reacted instinctively, reaching out and using his magic to grab at the shards of glass, pushing them at the Witch. Several found their way around her deflection, burying themselves deeply. He forced himself up, pushing away the agony that screamed at him, as she sank down, shaking hands going to one large shard lodged in her abdomen, leaning forward under another large piece that had been driven deep into her back.

"No, no," she was whispering. "This can't be…"

It wasn't enough. She would recover- her eyes were already flashing as she healed herself- and he lacked the physical strength to match blades were her. He knew this even as in her state her hand scrambled for the sword lying close to her. Merlin gathered up the last of his strength, the last dredges of his exhausted magics, called for every source he could reach…

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

Arthur stumbled as he felt the strong pull. He looked toward the tower again, understanding immediately the source. Without hesitating, he slipped into the Bond, felt the pain, the bone tiredness, the fear, the sadness. Riding strongly alongside all of it, however, was a deep determination. Arthur drew deeper, grabbing at everything the Bond was, gathering it to himself, lending it his strength, then pushed it all along the Link they shared, adding his power to that of his lover's.

He went to one knee when he felt something the echo of something penetrate his abdomen- not his, _Merlin's_!-, but didn't dare stop as everything he could send was being taken, being absorbed much as his wounds had been. He poured strength into the Bond, his love, his belief in their victory. He dove deeper into the Bond than he'd ever been before, driving all of himself into it, offering up everything. His eyes widened in wonder as everything that made up his lover was made available to him.

"Take it, Merlin," he projected through the Bond, feeling his mind connect as well. "I'm here. We'll do this together."

**MERLIN101010101010101MERLIN**

Leon watched his King go down, screamed out "Protect the King!", throwing every man he could find into a tight ring to surround the King. He'd seen the black eyes before. He knew Arthur was unable to defend himself in this state, as it was unlikely the warrior was aware of very much of his environment. The Knight understood, to some small degree, that this was needed, that the warlock had called for him. His heart ached for it, knew it meant Merlin was struggling. The younger man would never have risked reaching out like this otherwise.

"Shouldn't we get the King to safety?" one of the Lothian soldiers called out.

Leon shook his head. "Don't touch him! We keep him alive at _all_ costs!" he shouted at the ring. "More than one victory depends on it!"

Even as he fought to keep his King safe, he couldn't help but shiver at the nearly palpable sense of power that crackled through the air, similar to when Merlin had been preparing to let loose his deadly attack on the walls. Something _big_ was about to happen. The clouds gathered and darkened, lit by flashes of light as they thickened and bulged, carefully framing the full moon high in the night sky to focus its light on the kneeling King and the tower. The light never broke as the clouds began to circle the tower as if drawn to it. Leon felt the first drops of rain on his cheeks, and prayed they weren't to represent the tears to come if either King or Warlock failed.

**MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN**

Merlin felt the surge, gasped as it flowed into him, added itself to his own gathering power. He vaguely felt something sharp penetrate his abdomen, but he was beyond physical sense now. Moonlight filtered through the windows, and he drew power from it, too, discovering for the first time the sacred energy it cast on the earth. He drew deeply from the clouds he could somehow see gathering above, drew energy from the contained currents of water that fell, thousands of little offerings to answer his Call. He drew from the violence of the storm, and the calm of the earth beneath it. From the raging seas he Called the fury of the waves to him, sensing them breaking against him with every swell.

As from a distance he heard Morgana casting at him, felt her magic being absorbed like light into a deep shadow, adding itself to him. Heard her cry out in frustration, casting more and more powerful spells at him. He absorbed it all, even as his body jerked from the impacts. It didn't matter. He was beyond good and evil magic. There was no distinction, no life, no death... merely pure _power_ , as endless as the skies above them and the vastness of space above that.

' _Take it, Merlin. I'm here. We'll do this together,_ ' skittered across his mind, and in it he truly felt his destiny for the first time, felt their connection, seeing in his mind their beginning being built from the earliest of mankind. Even as his life blood dripped from the sword Morgana had put through him, he felt life being poured into the Link, felt it glow, imbued with the will of the Triple Goddess herself. It wrapped him in protective layers of strength and love, acting as a bridge, allowing him to draw deeply of the ancient powers, to balance it within himself even as it grew too much. He cried out, wrapped in agony beyond belief and the ecstasy of being connected to every living thing across every universe, as he offered himself as a vessel to them, sacrificing all he was for this one success.

"I'm ready," he strained to reply to the calmness in his mind. "Together. Tell your men to drop their weapons".

He could give them only a few minutes more before the vessel that was his body shattered, letting loose with everything it had taken in.

**MERLIN101010101010101MERLIN**

' _I'm ready. Together. Tell your men to drop their weapons._ '

"Drop your weapons! NOW!" Arthur shouted out as loudly as he could over the brutality of the storm overhead, even as he let loose, pushed everything he had felt being gathered through the Bond, adding his power to that of the warlock in the tower. His words didn't matter. He felt the command echo through every mind of Albion, felt it somehow distinguish from from foe. Purity, it sought. Intent of purpose.

Thunder cracked loudly above them while lightening split the skies, highlighting the torrential rains as Arthur arched on his knees, his head thrown back and arms flung wide, black eyes wide open heedless of the droplets stinging them, as a power ripped through him beyond anything he'd ever seen or experienced, the entire universe at their shared fingertips. The black of his eyes showing him the beauty of the energies being drawn to them both, filtering through the night air like glowing dust dancing in the elements of nature, surrounding them both. The stars themselves glowing so brightly to his eyes as though the clouds weren't there as they offered their own power, the bubbling brooks and streams in the forest sounded crystal clear to his ears as their elements were added. It all flowed from him across the bridge he'd built, connected him to the world of pain and ecstasy that his warlock now existed in. It was too much for his mortal body, and his mouth opened for a scream he was beyond hearing even as he fought to keep that bridge open.

" _MERLIN!_ "

**MERLIN1010101010101MERLIN**

Merlin cried out as the wave broke from him, a part of him vaguely heard Morgana's scream, was vaguely aware of it abruptly cutting off. He let it flow through him, felt it seek and destroy, felt it heal, felt it expanding in ever greater circles. The power was so immense that he knew he could offer it only one thought. Save Albion, he directed. His eyes burned for the power in them, and he was aware on some level of the skin around them flaring in a sensation he distantly remembered as pain. The power was ripping him apart from the inside but this had to be done and so he gave willingly of himself. He felt each life that was taken as if it were his own death. Thousands of times he died, over and over. A hundred more he Healed, felt those of Albion restored, only to die again at the next touch.

He convulsed as another wave broke from him, falling to one knee, barely holding himself up as power shook the earth underneath him, as stone crumbled around him. Darkness clawed at the edges of his awareness, and still he pushed. He coughed, some part of him tasting the blood that welled up in his throat. He felt the shift of the added power, felt it move along the Link connecting them, felt it offer life even as his drained away.

"Arthur," he whispered lovingly, blood flowing from his lips as he spoke, feeling the strength of his King, knowing it wasn't enough. Not for this.

Merlin glanced up, saw through blurred vision Morgana sitting half up against the wall, her head tilted at an odd angle, blood staining under her nose and ears. Open, vacant eyes stared at him. His heart broke even as darkness crawled closer. Even her death, he'd felt. He really had wished it could have turned out differently. But there was no returning from this. She had been dead the moment she'd begun casting into the vast well of power he'd taken in, she simply hadn't known it. The wave had been a kinder death than the life without magic she would have been forced to endure had she lived. He coughed again, spitting blood.

He could hear someone calling his name, but he was too far gone. His mind had shattered like the glass, splintering into a thousand little shards, knowing for one moment all paths, all futures, and all destinies. He felt those familiar Shields try to protect him but they, too, had given too much. Were too weak to withstand the crushing weight of the endless magics that he had accessed.

He cried out as that immense power leached out of him, letting the physical ruin that was his shattered body slam full force into him. It didn't matter. They'd succeeded. Darkness claimed him, but he knew, could feel it… this war they had won. "Together," he whispered with the last of his breath.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, sorry for that last chapter. I have to confess, after so much time was spent in Canon setting up Morgana to be the ultimate enemy, a powerful High Priestess who couldn't be killed by mortal man or blade... well, show watchers know how it went... the 'epic' battle was over? That last chapter was my slight correction to that particular ball being dropped in the show. As always, thank you for those following, reading, favoriting, and most importantly... reviewing!
> 
> MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN

Artemis shook his head as he moved away from the two still forms lying on cots next to each other. Four days had passed since the end of the battle. Four days since every Saxon in the city had dropped, since the deadly waves of power had offered death to any holding steel- Saxon or not- and life to any not. Four days since every magical being on the earth had been aware of the result of the prophesied battle, felt the wash of power as it broke, moving over every surface, returning the borrowed power to their sources. Four days since the storm that had washed off the blood on field and stone, had cleansed the air of the fowl smells of death.

For four days the world had been holding its breath, waiting to see if those two warriors would stop drawing their own. Four days of mourning the dead, of hardly daring to mention the word victory while the two battle leaders lay in a sleep so deep nothing, not even the most powerful of healing powers, could reach them. As they had been since the feeling of power in the air suddenly stilled, and nature let out the mournful cry of the forest animals, while the clouds wept tears of a heavy rain, and the winds loudly howled their grief. Victory had been achieved at the highest of costs.

The old druid closed his eyes, feeling truly hopeless. There had been a part of him that had clung to the strength of their relationship- to the love between them that carried its own incredible power- that it would be enough to see them through this. That power, too, however, had been called upon to overcome the powerful dark magic that Morgana had been capable of drawing on- the one source Merlin could never access. The druid wasn't sure if young Emrys entirely understood what he'd done. He hadn't just killed her- he had cleansed her power source, purifying it. Never again would so strong a dark magic be wielded. A feat that _should_ have been so impossible that it had never been considered even by the most ancient of influences, but he could feel it, feel the change even with his small ability. Emrys had completely balanced every source of magic. It would never again be used in great quantities to accomplish terrible- or great!- acts. While it would always be a part of them, wielded by those closest to it, it would remain forever balanced in perfect harmony.

And doing so had shattered the young warlock, likely beyond any type of repair.

Leaning over, he replaced the cooling cloth that was draped over Merlin's burned eyes. They were too swollen still to get any idea of whether the boy would ever see again, even if he lived. He'd working a healing salve into the skin around them several times a day, hoping to help them heal and grateful that the warlock was too deeply unconscious to feel it. Gently, he wiped the blood that occasionally bubbled from the corners of his mouth whenever he choked on the faltering breaths Artemis wasn't sure how the young man continued to draw.

"How are they today?"

Artemis turned, surprised he hadn't heard the Queen Regent enter. Getting old, he thought to himself. "No change, your Majesty." He sat down heavily on a chair in the corner of the room that was temporarily housing the two. Mithian, he knew, was working on establishing chambers for the two men once- _if_ \- they woke. The Princess was compassionate, and not afraid of getting her hands dirty to help wherever she could. He decided he liked her well enough, though there was a developing edge about her that kept me him wary of her. Her people fed off the strength she showed them, and she gave them hope with encouraging words to any who needed a reminder of all they still had. "Though Arthur begins to stir. I'm afraid I don't know enough to guess whether that is good or not."

The wave of combined death and healing that had swept through had sealed gashes, cauterized bleeding severed limbs, healed internal injuries, set broken bones. Even those Saxons who hadn't happened to have a weapon in hand had been spared. The wave had not distinguished. Steel meant death. Arthur's orders to drop weapons had cycled quickly enough through the ranks that they had lost only a few. Those fighting on the west side had, for the few remaining, joined their Glorious Dead. A handful of 20 survivors had come from that group. All had been broken hearted to be spared, to be denied their victorious deaths. Included in those twenty was Battle Master, Eliam. They had all been locked away in prayer ever since- determined not to come out until the fate of their beloved Emrys was known.

Artemis was thankful it had been kept to the city boundaries. Anyone outside those walls could only watch in horror as thousands fell while the walls of the city shook and crumbled. Large rooms in the castle were being used to house the injured from the field, as well as those in the tents. Reports had come of another battle at sea. Prince Durstan had been victorious, despite the sudden storm, and had allowed one ship to return to the Saxon homeland bearing a message of all that had transpired here. There was hope they would take time to reconsider before attempting something like this again.

In the days since their victory, those at the Catacombs had joined them, wagons transporting those unable to walk. Supplies came from Caerleon as promised. Those soldiers who remained able worked on burying the dead. _All_ the dead, Artemis had been gratified to hear the Queen Regent order. When objections had sounded from a few of the Alliance soldiers, Gwen had been stunningly confident in assuring them that a battle lost did not dishonor their devotion to their cause. The fumes from the bodies burning in the mass graves had people retching for days, but Gwen had been correct. So much human blood and decay would have corrupted the soil.

The manservant, Ian, Artemis left in charge of the injured. Though he wouldn't show it, the man was beside himself with worry over his broken master, and the druid thought it best to keep him busy. He had a good head on his shoulders, and a fair understanding of the basics of healing. His outwardly calm appearance helped keep those being subject to the horrific injuries steady. While his rank had not changed, he had earned a considerable amount of respect from anyone who'd been with him during the battle.

Four days of slowly rebuilding the city of Nemeth. Much had been burned, homes ransacked, market stalls destroyed. Some walls had crumbled under the force of Merlin's first attacks, then more with the final waves released from the tower. The tower itself had stood only for a day after the battle before finally crumbling. It would take a long time, but as more and more citizens returned, they proved themselves a resilient people. Artemis had to admire them, though months of losses were written on each of their faces. He knew of more than one that had thrown themselves into the burning pits to end their suffering.

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear it. And Merlin?"

Artemis shook his head sadly. "I'm not sure what force is keeping him alive. To say Merlin's injuries were fatally severe would still be a vast understatement, My Lady. By all rights, he should be dead." Every moment straining to listen for that awful breathing, waiting for it to stop, was beginning to take its toll on him. "He'd be better off dead."

"I don't understand," Gwen answered. "He's channeled such magics before, and recovered. Arthur told me he wielded great powers when they traveled in time."

Artemis lifted an eyebrow. "Arthur tells you much," he said, surprised. Then he nodded. "It was, indeed, a significant amount of power, and it came very close to killing him. Whether that was because he wasn't ready, or if the poison weakened him, or if the battle for his mind in the crystal caves, or even the blood magic he cast to take them back... any of it could have made a difference in that outcome. And still, those powers were merely a single drop compared to the ocean he accessed to defeat Morgana and the Saxons, to cleanse and balance the sources of magic."

"But I thought he was born of these magics?"

"Indeed, he was. He is the very essence of all he wielded. They have waited centuries for the Call from him. Unfortunately, his body was too young, too weak yet, to channel such forces- a bucket trying to hold the whole of the sea of Meredor- and they ripped him apart from the inside out, destroying the vessel that restrained them. Even if we somehow receive a miracle, who's to say what's left of his mind? What he did should not have been possible, not yet- some of it, not _ever_. This battle came too soon. A boy child trying to control the powers of a god." He spread his hands helplessly as he spoke, trying to help her grasp something she really had no way of understanding on any level. Intelligent and a child of destiny herself, she was still merely a simple mortal with no magical ties.

"I thought this was always destined?" Gwen asked, confused. "That was why Merlin and Arthur were brought together in the first place?"

"That it _would_ happen has always been known, My Lady, but the _when_ has always been vague. Our only hint was 'when the strength of two became one'. Most of us that were aware of that much of the prophecy have believed that it meant when the young warlock truly came into his gifts, when Merlin and Emrys were no longer separate entities of each other. He has not reached even the half of his potential yet, and so we didn't see it coming so soon. We thought we had more time, to train him, prepare him as best we could. We were fools to be so arrogant." He shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. "Forgive the wandering thoughts of a tired old druid, Gwen," he requested when he saw the look of horror pass over her face.

"Two sides of the same coin..." Gwen put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head, feeling like she was going to be ill. "When the strength of two… it's their Bond, Artemis!" She felt tears in her eyes as the realization dawned on her. "The more Arthur used it, gave it power, the closer he brought this day." It would devastate her friend if he ever realized it. To have forced it before the warlock was ready. "Through their Bond they two have become one, the Sword and Shield of Albion, the single force destined to bring it into reality. When Arthur Linked them, he set the final piece on the board, stating his readiness to play this game with Destiny. Oh, Artemis... why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Gwen closed her eyes. For a brief moment, she was glad of the Link, was glad that Arthur would never have to live with the knowledge that he had secured the death of the one thing he loved most. She could barely bear the thought herself. It was that love that had brought them to this so much more quickly than had been anticipated. The denial of the very acceptance Merlin craved had been the only thing preserving his life, the only thing giving him time to grow into his potential.

Her heart broke for her two friends. She thought of the visions Arthur had told her about, though of their endings, showing the then Prince the future paths, each leading to the death of one of them, the other left behind to wallow in grief. Arthur had made a choice, and she thought she understood now that unknowingly, he had chosen to avoid the pain of the loss of the other for either of them. Long before he had Linked them, he had chosen for them to live, or die, together. She sent prayers to any god or spirit that might listen that they be permitted to remain together, either in life or death. Better that than to be forced to live with the knowledge that their epic love had come with at an unbearable price.

Artemis cocked his head, slowly nodding as he considered what she was saying, putting all the pieces together that for her had already fallen neatly into place. He glanced at her appreciatively, and with genuine sorrow. "The young King does seem to have the unique ability to make Fate and Destiny both dance to his own tune." He nodded. "What changes may have come, My Lady, had we told you this sooner, I wonder? Could we have prevented this? Given the young warlock the time he needed?" He sighed. "A regretful thing, the curse of seeing yesterday through the eyes of today."

Gwen took a deep breath, looking hard at the druid. "Arthur must never know, Artemis. It would destroy him. Morgana is dead, the battle for Albion won. They will both live, or they will both die. Whichever way they fall, these words will never be uttered again, lest they hear it."

Artemis looked at her for a long moment, then slowly, dipped his head in a bow. "As your Majesty commands."

She stood then, turning to leave, but then she looked back at the old druid. "Keep Arthur strong, Artemis. Merlin's life depends on it."

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

Arthur's- yes, a name, _he_ was Arthur he remembered- eyes fluttered open, slowly, and he took in his surroundings, took in the dull ache of his body, the empty feeling of his stomach. Very much the sensations of a mortal body, confusing after so long being separate from it. Had it been so long? It felt like Ages had passed when he was connected to the warlock. So much power! He shuddered, then did it again just to feel the physical sensation again, to feel solid again. He focused on the soft sheets beneath him, the slight hardness of the uncomfortable cot. Slowly, he remembered that once he'd had a bed that felt softer than this. He licked his lips, finding them dry. He forced himself to remember they had once been moist.

Forced himself to remember connecting with his lover on a basic, physical level. Could he ever enjoy those simple sensations again? After being joined to every part that was his Merlin, knowing him on a level so deep he had felt every part, every breath, every function of his physical body, felt every emotion, saw almost every piece that made up that wounded soul.

He gasped, had to remind himself that he had to breathe. Mortal bodies needed to breathe. It was odd to have to remind himself of such a simple thing, when he could remember every second of the battle, every second he had acted as a bridge while the warlock drew more and more power into himself. He remembered when it had been let loose, had felt his lover die a thousand deaths, felt as Merlin _became_ the ancient source of all magic in the world, felt as the small vessel that had been the lithe body Arthur loved so much was willingly sacrificed for the success of the battles.

He remembered throwing up shields he knew were useless, but knowing he had to try anyway. He had been merely a bridge, and what he felt barely an echo from a thousand league distance, so faded by the time it reached him. He had felt it when his lover's mind took in the knowledge of a vast universe, took in the life path of all those that had come before, those that were, and those yet to come. His shields couldn't compare as Merlin became each of them, became connected to every particle, cell, and atom- words his mind now somehow understood- that ever had, or ever would, exist.

He knew he'd been asleep for a long time. Knew his own mind had needed time to deal with what it had experienced. He lifted his own hand, running the fingers of his other against the palm, following the lines in his skin, feeling the movement of muscles as he flexed his fingers. It helped to remind himself of these mortal things. Helped anchor him.

He opened and closed his mouth, experimenting with sounds, feeling his tongue work itself around forming words. One word came very easily. The last word that had been on his lips before his entire world had blended with that of his lover. "Merlin."

"Merlin," he said it again, testing it, changing his tone each time. Yes. He remembered speech now. Such a physical thing, after having been so deeply a part of someone that their souls had whispered to each other, their thoughts merging into concepts rather than words. He slowly shifted all of his muscles, becoming accustomed to being a contained entity again. This was lonely, he decided, but knew it was important he find his path to it again.

Another emotion began to make itself known to him. Fear. That other being he had been a part of was still in danger. There was still a part of him connected to it, if not nearly as deeply. This felt incredibly surface, but he remembered now, the power it held. So much less, but still capable of so much. His Merlin was still so lost, the fragile human mind not being ready for all it had experienced.

He chose to close his eyes again, chose to dive as deeply into that hollow but powerful connection again as he could get. If Merlin's world was shattered, then it was his duty to pick up the shards, to put them back into place, and he set about it, experiencing another remembered emotion- determination. He remembered he had promised the younger man that he would fight to bring him back from whatever darkness he fell into. This unending vastness had not been the fear at the time he'd made it, but it held sway with him still. Confidence bubbled up as he went about putting his lover back together, in reminding him of these mortal things.

A shining glow remained in their connection, and he felt great power coming from it. Exploring closer, he reached for a part of it, felt life flow into him, felt hope, and joy, and love, but always strongly- _life_. Curious- yes, he remembered being curious before, and that taught him how to smile again- he stretched it toward his Bond with his lover, let it wrap itself around the lost warlock, let it become an anchor. He fed each shard he picked up through it, letting it purify it, before putting it carefully back into place. As he worked, he wove his shields around the shards, seeking to protect them, bind them, and hold them in place.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he took great pains and care to place those pieces back, just so. Nothing would be lost- that was impossible. But he discovered he could make doorways, could seal them away if they were not needed. All those paths, all those futures, all that knowledge wasn't needed, so he sealed it behind a door, easy to tell the difference between those pieces of the puzzle didn't fit with the others that snapped easily back into place.

He had done a good deal when he felt something brush up against him, and he remembered smiling again. Merlin's own magic, recovering as he took the strange threads that didn't belong and sealed them away too. They were faded echoes of the powers that they had been connected to, acting like an ivy wrapped around a great oak tree, slowly strangling it to death. As he worked with them, the tree that was Merlin's natural magic began to breathe again, to live, recovering enough that it helped him in his task. Once it was free of the choking ivy, it left him.

He remembered then, that Merlin had a physical body too. Strange for him to think of making love to it, but not to remember it existed. Perhaps he hadn't needed to remember. He knew all too well just how broken it was. It could never be repaired. Not on its own, even with the help of the boys magic. That physical body took the strength he could offer it, but it wasn't enough. Arthur could sustain it for a while longer- enough to finish his task, but that physical body took less and less as time went on. If he were to purchase time, he needed to tend to his own body. He remembered the feeling of hunger, and thirst. Yes. If he tended to his own body, then he could sustain Merlin for longer. But it wouldn't heal him.

And that's when he looked at the shard in his hand, saw a possible future in a memory of the past. It stirred his own. Yes, there was one possible chance. The magics around him whispered, and he listened.

_**MERLIN101010101010101MERLIN** _

Artemis sighed wearily as he closed the door behind him, grateful to enjoy the quiet behind it. He was thankful that after a sennight of smelling nothing but blood and infection, the air in the infirmary room was beginning to clear as the number of people in it reduced. But there were still far too many in there and the losses were beginning to take their toll on him. War was kindest to those who died, never to those left behind. Punishment, he supposed, for daring to be arrogant enough to think themselves so important as to believe they had any control once the deadly conflict had begun.

"Long day?"

His head shot up in surprise, shocked to see King Arthur- dressed in his cleaned brown pants, a loose white tunic and even with his boots on to protect his feet from the cold floor- sitting on the edge of Merlin's cot, running a cooling cloth over the bare skin. The sunlight coming in from the window bathed the two men giving them a strange glow, glinting off the golden features of the King as he tended the raven youth. He was frozen for a moment when he saw fingers trailing the cloth, touching every part of the porcelain skin they could reach, murmuring softly as if reminding the warlock what that sensation was. He watched, transfixed, as the King lifted a scarred palm to the barest brush of his lips against them, whispering against it, before returning it to its place.

There was an ethereal element to it all- a dance performed with purpose and intent. Arthur had always been gentle with the boy but this spoke of an intimacy, sensuality, and tenderness that had never been present before, and Artemis couldn't help but stare at the scene. He was reminded of the stories of his youth, of the secret relationship between a golden god and a dark fey that had led to a terrible curse that they spend forever apart once discovered, chasing each other across the sky. Their only salvation in the few moments they shared the same space each day and night, whispering their forbidden love to each other to this day still, the morning dew the tears they shed for their ache to hold one another again. He would never be able to tell that story to his people again without picturing this moment in his mind.

"It appears so," Arthur answered himself, nodding, continuing his work when the druid didn't answer him. His voice lowering once again to the soothing whispered repertoire he kept up, intended for the ears of the sleeping warlock only. There was nothing about him that indicated he cared whether the druid answered him or not and it felt, odd, distant, to the older man.

"You're awake!" Artemis gabbled out finally, freed from the hypnotic motions and his shock by the King's indifferent tone. He shook his head at himself even as Arthur threw him a sardonic smirk. He felt off centered with how easily it was getting for people to startle him. Old indeed! "How are you feeling?"

A quick critical eye showed a healthy flush to Arthur's skin, and there were no lines of pain- lines Artemis had learned to look for when the King wanted to stubbornly hide his injuries or distress- and the steady, controlled movements spoke of strong muscles. Even to his practiced eye, it looked like Arthur had simply woken from a refreshingly deep sleep.

"Hungry, actually," Arthur answered, turning back to his tender task even as the druid shouted out the door for food to be brought. " _He_ , unfortunately, is not doing nearly so well." It was then Artemis caught a few of the whispered words, recognizing them in shock. The Ancient Tongue- a language remembered by only a few of the oldest druid lines and older than even the spoken language of magic. When had the King learned _that_? Surely it had never been something his father would have him tutored in. And he had never spoken to the warlock in it before. Why now? For every moment the King was awake, the druid found himself with more and more questions. It was a position he was not accustomed to being in. For all that he explained to the Queen, for all he had felt sorry for her lack of ability to understand what had truly happened during that battle, he was beginning to feel _he_ understood even less!

Artemis nodded slowly, taking a seat on the chair he had been occupying whenever he was with them. "I know. I will confess to a large part of my surprise in finding you awake was my understanding of the Link. I was sure the reason for your own long sleep was because you were keeping him alive," he hinted, hoping it would cause the King to offer a better explanation.

The Druid took a closer look at his King. There was something... ' _different'_ would be both an understatement and overstatement at the same time... about the man. It was in the way he held himself, so familiar and yet so strange, the motions he made as confident as ever but done with a considerable care not seen before. It was when he turned his head slightly to look at the druid that the old man finally grasped what it was. Those gold crowned steel blue eyes, always serious and capable of expressing great love, firm command, or astonishing hate, were as ancient as any he had ever seen. There were _lifetimes_ lived in those eyes, Ages of wisdom long past, Ages of wisdom yet to come. There was youthful delight, in them, too, a mirthful appreciation he had never seen before even as they currently shone with the fear and concern for his lover.

Arthur nodded. "I was. I am, still. He takes less of my strength every day. It's not enough. He… he wasn't ready for this."

Artemis pursed his lips, shaking his head, wondering how much the King knew. It was impossible to tell if there was any trace of guilt in that tone. It had been stated as a tragic fact. "He wasn't. The damage done to him… Some of the greatest Healers of our people have come to help him. Each has failed." Was it his imagination or had the warlock's harsh breathing eased slightly?

"But we succeeded?" Arthur asked, dropping the cloth into the bowl and once again pulling the blanket over his lover. He turned to the druid, keeping a hand on a bare shoulder, as much for his own comfort as for the fact that Merlin sometimes drew more from him when they were touching, connected on a physical level again. It had been important to remind his lover of his body.

Artemis smiled, and he had the feeling Arthur already knew- was merely seeking confirmation. "You did. The battle was won on all fronts. The Saxons defeated, Morgana dead. Princess Mithian is proving herself quite adept at returning some sense of order to her Kingdom, even with all the visiting soldiers and kingdom leaders." He cleared his throat. "All of whom are exceptionally eager to speak with you." He watched the King closely, and stirred with some slight irritation when the King showed no interest in the current political workings.

Arthur hung his head in relief, unconsciously squeezing the shoulder he was hanging on to. The price had been a steep one, but Albion was achieved. It had been difficult to know for sure which path had been true. There had been so many. He nodded to himself, hearing the whispering in his mind, felt the powers of the Bond stirring inside of him. He was aware of Artemis's irritation, just as he had been aware of the druids' shock, his curiosity, his concern. Aware, but not his priority. His priority was lying beneath his hand. Later, he would remember that other physical beings existed in this space, too. Later, he would remember the friendships he held dear. But for now, there was only the other half of himself, taking less of his strength every day. He took a deep breath.

"It's time, then," he whispered, leaning over and running a finger along the bruised cheek of the entirely too still form on the cot. "Logh dom an rún deireanach seo, grá amháin."

Artemis frowned, roughly translating the ancient words in his mind, this time spoken audibly enough for him to hear. _Forgive me this last secret, Love_.

The King turned back to the healer. "Bring Gwaine to me, and prepare something that can revive Merlin."

"Arthur, at best I could give you only a few moments, and they would likely be his last."

"I only need one," Arthur replied steadily.

One last secret, and their only hope.


	11. Chapter 11

It felt good to experience the chill of the night air, the freedom of it just being them again, of the open space, surrounded by vastness. There were too many other physical beings in that walled space that felt too small. He was tired of the questions he couldn't answer- not in any way they'd understand, not even old Artemis, for all his knowledge and wisdom. He was frustrated by the constant looks of concern when he couldn't quite manage to attach himself to them, couldn't bring himself closer to remembering how much he loved these people, couldn't remember to care about Kingdoms or soldiers or knights. He'd tried, but everything he did, or said, just led to more questions. The entirety of his focus was the boy, his other half, the destination of the bridge he'd been.

He couldn't explain to them that he spoke to Merlin in the Ancient Tongue because their version of English was too new, too modern, for where the boy existed now. Couldn't explain that Merlin had taken into himself a vast universe they didn't even know existed. Couldn't tell them how he knew that while yes, the body was deeply unconscious, Merlin's mind could still hear. It just couldn't process something so simple, so narrow, yet. He remembered vividly working to rebuild that mind, and he'd been successful for the most part, fulfilling his promise. There were some things he hadn't been able to do, however, and connect it to the here and now had been one. That, he knew, would take powers beyond what he possessed. So he graced his tongue with an ancient language he'd learned while acting as a bridge, hearing the echoes of _all_ knowledge.

He could feel his own mind was building itself back, was slowly putting everything into place, putting him back in this time, this destiny, and he had to pray he didn't lose the language before Merlin remembered the new one. Some days, he remembered he was supposed to be King, now. Slowly, things he remembered no longer fascinated him quite the way they had when he'd first woken. He was slowly becoming whole with his body again- and it frightened him. He never quite lost that displaced feeling, but every once in a while, something would happen that he didn't have to sort out and find a way to attach to himself. He feared losing that connection with his lover before he could help him. Hour by hour, Arthur was becoming less and less the being that had once shared all the secrets of the universe with another being, returning to his previous state of existence prior to bridging the very essence of creation. It gave him some hope, though, to feel it happening. If he could, then someday, Merlin would return as well- if this worked.

Until he did, Arthur let the other knowledge fall from him, let his mind banish it as unnecessary, clinging tightly to the only language his lost in time lover could comprehend on any level. No, they didn't understand, and their simplicity of perspective had driven him further away. He had to hang on to this for just a little while longer, and their presence worked to anchor him more and more.

Arthur sighed as he added a large branch to the fire. It had taken a full day of riding, trying to be gentle of the broken body in his arms, but he hadn't spared speed for ease. Merlin was accepting less of his strength, his magic and body already understanding it was a doomed cause. He'd paced anxiously for days while waiting for Gwaine to return from Camelot with the fragile package he'd sent him for. Often locking the two of them in the small room for hours, just for a little peace from the pressures of the others. As he came back to himself, he couldn't escape the fear, the desperation, the _terror_ that he would lose his lover, and somehow be left behind. The Link was to make sure that didn't happen, but he was no longer sure of it. Something had changed it from when he originally built it. That had been very clear when they'd connected. Undetectable while only having access to the surface of the Bond, everything had been laid clear for him once they had completely melded, the magic of the Link humming with a power Arthur hadn't given it. That fear screamed loudest when the others were near, and it was all too much for him.

Artemis and Gwen were furious with him, of course, for taking Merlin anywhere, both absolutely sure that because the warlock was still alive, he was healing. That he simply needed time. Arthur knew different, and hadn't been able to explain that any more than anything else- couldn't explain it was _him_ that forced air into battered lungs, that it was _him_ forcing a heart to continue beating. They could never understand the level he was connected to the boy. They thought they did, thought the Bond was the source of his certainty that time was running out for both of them. In a way, it was, but he had no way to explain this last hope, this last chance, offered little hope at all. That despite his best efforts, the boy remained so far out of their reach. No matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't connect the lost mind to the failing physical body. He certainly had no way to explain that whether his hopes came true or not, this debt was long overdue, and had to be paid- even if it was the last thing he did.

"Time for it," he whispered, looking between the form lying close to the fire and the vial in his hand. Artemis had promised only that it would wake him. He had also promised whatever words Arthur needed to hear from him, they _would_ be the last. He had no way of knowing whether Merlin would be able to communicate with him, would understand his need. Still, this was a risk he had to take. Not only for hope, but for honor. "Don't let me down, Love."

Gently, he used his thumb on Merlin's chin to pry open his mouth. He poured the potion in small drips, working the boys throat to force him to swallow. He shuddered to think how often he'd had a chance to get good at this. It hadn't been for nothing, he reminded himself. Albion had come to pass. Everything asked of their destinies, they'd accomplished. Except he couldn't banish the feeling- an instinct really- that it wasn't quite true, that something more waited for them. It was the original of his small hope.

Once it was gone he sat back and waited. It had taken some time last time, though Artemis had told him this one was stronger, as it wasn't mere poison it was working against. He was shaking, he realized. Nervous to see those eyes open- the salve and care Artemis had given had all but healed the burns around them- frightened Merlin would still be beyond being able to hear him, to see him. If he was, this would all fail.

Still, when only moments later Merlin let out a huge gasp, his back arching off the ground, it startled the King. He recovered quickly however, moving to place his hand under Merlin's head, using his other to soothe and calm the boy. Touch had been the first thing he'd remembered. He'd been working for days to prepare that mind, to anchor it to touch and sound, for this moment.

"Shhh, Merlin, it's alright," he muttered, waiting for the shock of the potion to wear off. "Shhhh. Tá sé ceart go leor, mo ghrá."

Slowly, the taunt muscles relaxed, and Arthur pulled the boy up against him. It probably wasn't wise to move him, but he needed to hold him, to let the warlock find an anchor in the strength of his arms, something that had always been part of their physical connection. Touch on an instinctive level, both drawing and giving strength in the times when needed most. Made all the more precious to both of them, he remembered, having almost lost it. He carded his fingers through the raven locks, another part of his own mind anchoring with the sensation on his fingertips, remembering the emotions that always came with the silk.

"Arthur?" Merlin murmured, confused, working his mouth slowly. Arthur understood the sensation, but knew they didn't have time to go through that process, to work through that confusion. He reached out with the Bond, wrapping it around them both, working the thread into activating the shields he'd woven into place as he'd worked to repair the damaged mind. Guilt flooded him as he sensed horrifying agony edging closer to the warlock's awareness. He spoke to the warlock on every level he could- new tongue, old tongue, and using the Bond to reach the deeper parts of his soul- desperate for the boy to understand him.

"Merlin, we don't have much time. You have to call the Dragon! Níl mórán ama againn. Caithfidh tú glaoch ar an Dragon!" He felt his lover tense, and shook his head. "There's no time. Call him! Call Kilgharrah! Glaoigh air!" he ordered, the command strong his voice. Moments, Artemis had said. He hoisted the weak body further up so that Merlin's forehead rested on his temple, paying no heed to the small cry of pain that came with the movements, understood how much worse it would feel to be suddenly remembering such a broken physical body. He couldn't afford sympathy right now, though. " _Call_ him, damn you! _Glaoigh_ air!" he yelled. "Something in you remembers how! Is cuimhin le rud éigin ionat conas!"

Arthur would never know which part of his communication reached the warlock, and he didn't care. Responding to the urgency in Arthur's voice, Merlin threw his head back. " _ **O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!**_ " came the powerful call, even as blood flowed from the corners of his mouth. When the last syllable in the dragon tongue left him, Merlin's eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back limply, the body going slack in his arms. The last of his strength given in obeying the final command of his King.

"Thank you," Arthur whispered, using his thumb to wipe away the blood. He'd heard the pain the call had caused. He hoped the Dragon had too, hoped it would lend expediency to the beasts response. He tried to push more strength through their Bond, but there was nothing left on the other end to receive it. He felt the last of the bridge crumbling, no longer having a destination to connect to. He closed his eyes to hold back the wave of tears. Absently, he touched his face. Yes. Another part of him anchored. He remembered this expression of sorrow, of joy, of hope, and of hopelessness. This had to work! Already, he could feel the surface power he had become so accustomed to leaving him. Could feel as the Bond slipped away, thread by thread. Once that was gone, the Link would be the final connection to break, taking both their lives with it. Could he bear to exist in such loneliness once that Bond was gone? To once again be a fully singular being? He didn't think so, even for the few moments he may have to.

A half span later, Arthur was beginning to lose hope. Without the bridge, he remembered now, this life. He clung tightly to that tiny bit of knowledge, but he let all else fade away. He smiled, even, as he finally allowed himself to connect to this space, however briefly. He remembered love, duty, responsibility. He remembered the purpose of the war, to hold back the tidal wave of Saxons trying to take their way of life. He remembered all he was, all he had been. Perhaps the final gift of destiny, he considered, to let him return to himself for these precious few moments. To carry all he cared for into the next life. Bit by bit, it mostly all faded, his mind whispering hints, keeping within it only that which he'd need to connect with the younger man. He tightened his hold on the warlock, tears now tracking down his face. This has been a desperate gamble from the start, but he'd been so sure…

He looked up as at long last the sound of powerful wings came to his ears. He tipped his head back to feel the breeze they created as the huge beast landed in the clearing, a few feet from their fire. A part him remembered watching the first dragon coming to this world. Remembered the great fireball that had given them their powers, evolved their bodies from creatures long ago gone from the planet.

"I had hoped, Pendragon, that you would have learned your lesson by now," was the first thing the Great Dragon said angrily, looking sadly at the warlock. "Because you have asked, I cannot help. All of magic can hear the outcry in your heart. We are not unaware of the great battle you and he have just fought. Nor are we blind to what he had to sacrifice to accomplish it- even now, I can sense how lost he is- but it cannot erase the past. You should not have stayed."

Arthur shifted, not enjoying the penetrating look of the Dragon. A part of him sensed he was being tested, that the dragon was looking for something. For as scattered as he felt, he left himself open to the beast, hid nothing. A part of him remembered Pride, remembered how important it had once been to him. It seemed so small, now. An image projected to protect himself, to protect others, even. So small, in the grand scheme. He was beyond that, though he remembered being on the edge for so long, open and closed at the same time. There was nothing left to hide, anymore. No image that mattered.

Arthur stood up, carefully lifting his burden, and walking it to the Dragon. He gently laid it down directly in front of Kilgharrah. "I won't deny that was my hope," Arthur answered carefully. Closing his eyes, he leaned over and placed a kiss on Merlin's forehead, taking a moment in his heart to say good bye. Then he rose, backing slowly away. "But it's not the reason I had him call you. If these are his last moments, then I believe a Dragonlord belongs with his Dragon." He swallowed as he stopped, looking away. "Could you save him, if I had not asked?"

Kilgharrah, who could feel the lifeforce is his friend, his warlock, his master, slipping away, shook his head. "I do not know. I could have tried."

"Then I make an offering of Peace to Magic," Arthur said strongly, moving to collect the satchel. He handled it gently. "You'll need him, but I couldn't... I don't know how much of him remembers how."

"Arthur, I know your heart means well, and I know you have come a long way from the boy who once threatened death and destruction…" Kilgharrah started, trailing off his eyes widened when Arthur took the object out of the bag, holding it carefully, and putting it delicately on the stump of an old tree.

"By my own sense of justice, I once threatened death and destruction. It is with this, then, that I offer the only counter strong enough. I balance that with giving in return a life for those I never took, but have threatened to do so."

"Then you know what that is?"

Arthur nodded solemnly. "I do. I've kept it safe in Camelot, waiting for this day."

"And how long would you have held a dragon's egg hostage?" The Great Dragon growled in fury.

Arthur opened his arms wide. "It was never a hostage. From the moment the memories returned to me regarding the egg, I went for it myself. But with its location came the memories of this dragon's alliance with Morgana, of the suffering it would endure while with her, of the twisted creature it would become. I couldn't let it fall into her hands again. I told no one of its existence, not even my father. I kept it safely hidden away, always waiting for the day when Morgana would be defeated."

He took a deep breath, blinking away tears. "I had hoped… I always had visions of it being both Merlin _and_ I presenting it to you. I never told him, either. I remembered what he'd done the first two times. How certain he'd been that as a Dragonlord, restoring it was the right thing to do. And he wasn't wrong- he merely lacked the knowledge of what would come of it. As did you, my friend, for it was you who begged him to undertake the task. I'm sorry, truly I am, for keeping it from you both. But I knew those memories returned for a reason. Knew I was being given a chance to correct this mistake, spare it the suffering to come. In my visions, I saw a beautiful young Dragon full of hope. I saw that hope twisted and turned to hate. I've never been shown anything far enough in advance that wasn't a sign I had the opportunity to change it. Magic made this request of me, and I fulfilled it, even then."

"You did all that, to protect it? A creature of magic?" Kilgharrah asked softly, understanding.

"And more," Arthur answered honestly. "But Morgana is defeated now- Emrys saw to that- and that future can no longer hold sway. And as the life ebbs from him, it will soon go from me, too. If we do nothing else together, I wanted this gift of peace given. This final act of friendship, to both you, and to him." He frowned. "I know he's needed to call it forth." He looked hopefully at the beast. "Is there any way you can revive him long enough? I can give him the strength he needs to do it, if it's done soon. The Bond slips away more with each moment. All I ask in return is a few moments to say goodbye."

The Great Dragon studied the young King. Looked into his heart, and saw only truth. This thing the- then- young Prince, still heavily influenced by his father, had taken on himself to save, this offering of hope in the future. He reached into the burden laden mind, caught whispers of the same vision, then of the series of events that had truly taken place. There was something more, something recently shared that was now fading, but through all of it, he could feel the King's genuine intent with this precious treasure.

"This act, Arthur, I see for what it is meant to be. I, for one, accept your gift. Take hold of him, and I can revive him, for he is needed still this last time."

Arthur hesitated. "There's something you should know. He... he might not understand. His mind... what we experienced... his mind is still wandering. To accomplish all he did- I know you can feel it beyond even what I can claim to understand- he didn't simply access ancient powers, Kilgharrah. He _became_ the very essence of magic itself, sacrificed all that was _him_. I fixed what I could, but his mind- Dragon, I can still feel how lost he is. I don't pretend to understand how his gifts as a Dragonlord work, how deeply embedded they are. I knew, for a moment, but now I've forgotten. You may have to find a way to remind him."

The Great Dragon nodded. "I understand. And more, I believe I understand the connection you have shared. Do you know what language we have been speaking?"

Arthur blinked, thinking back over the conversation, and blushed, then smiled, knowing that as much as had slipped from him, he retained that much still. "It's all he understands. I thought I used it only for him," he confessed.

"The Ancient Tongue is a gift, Arthur, and to hear it again lightens my heart. It is a thing that will soon be lost to man. I will try to anchor him as much as I can, as the connection of Dragonlord is ancient to man, but very young to the space where his mind dwells. It is vast even to me. An anchor will hold him temporarily, but I cannot say how long it will last, nor how much of his pain I can shield from him."

Arthur knelt immediately, pulling the warlock up against him. He closed his eyes as he felt the Dragon's hot breath on him, felt the ancient magic settle into him, into the boy in his arms. He breathed heavily as the spell washed exhaustion from him, an extension of the magic seeping into the warlock. He felt the few remaining scattered pieces of his mind settle this last time, into their final place. He remembered much of the experience, but the details became blurred. He felt a flash of fear, but realized nothing of his connection with his lover had been threatened, had instead been settled into his mind as a permanent. He breathed in relief, understanding that the Dragon had gifted him, as well. Had let him keep the only tongue the boy understood. He whispered his gratitude as he felt the fear that had been part of him since everything he had gained as a bridge as begun to slip wash away.

When it stopped, he gently laid the warlock back down, sure the upright position would be more painful for him. After forcing him to wake last time, the King couldn't bear to cause the boy any more suffering. He cupped his lovers cheek, unable to stop the half laugh, half sob that came from him when gold crowned azure eyes flickered open, searching for a moment before meeting his. There was so much else swirling in them, but they seemed fixed, however temporarily, in this present space. Merlin knew him, knew the now.

"Arthur," the weak voice breathed, sounding pleased.

A part of Arthur's heart broke when he heard the accent on the name, but he pushed it aside. He had to hope the broken mind remembered the Dragon tongue. It was obvious from the slow formation of his mouth that the boy wasn't fully connected yet. But it was enough. He had to hope it was enough.

Arthur nodded, reaching for a hand and bringing it to his lips, closing his own eyes as he kissed it. "Merlin," he breathed. Tears fell down his cheeks, pushed by the strong combination of happiness and heartbreak, but he ignored them.

Merlin coughed weakly, frowning, then some clarity seemed to settle in him. "Dying again, huh?" he teased, and Arthur had never realized how melodic the boy's voice was. He thought there was a part of him that would be greatly saddened if Merlin remembered enough of now to speak properly again. The gentle tease in a language that had always sound rough from Arthur's mouth flowed gracefully from the lips of the ancient creature.

Arthur couldn't stop himself from laughing even as he nodded. "I'm afraid there's no way around it this time." He sniffed, trying to pull himself together. "But there's something we need you to do first," he whispered, as if the request itself caused him great pain. "I had one last secret, Merlin."

"Thought... " Merlin coughed again, turning his head as he tried to catch his breath around the blood he spit out. "Thought we agreed that… that never worked… well."

"There isn't much time, so don't ask a lot of questions. A long time ago, I saved a dragon's egg," Arthur answered, smiling. "Kilgharrah is not the last of his kind. But the Dragon can't hatch without a Dragonlord to call it out. Do you remember? Can you remember how to speak to Kilgharrah?"

"I... I think so. There's so much..." Merlin frowned, struggling to hold on, to stay with his lover. His fingers tightened their hold on his lovers hand, used it to ground him, to remember his body, even as his mind tried to move away from the anchor restraining it. "You did… did that?... For… magic?"

Arthur shook his head, using one hand to brush an increasingly shaggy set of bangs from his lover's brow, delighting in the feeling of those silk strands in his fingers this last time. "I did it for _you_. For the future I knew could someday come." He smiled. "We did it, Love. Morgana is defeated. It's safe now, for it to be born. I know you're hurting beyond endurance- but this one last thing needs to be done, and then we can both rest."

He saw tears come to the boys' eyes as he remembered the Link. "No, Arthur... " This pain shot through him on every level, surpassing even the physical. It reverberated through every space of his mind, his soul. "No..." He coughed, choking, trying to dispel the fluids that tried to rise with every wheezing breath.

"Shhh, shhhh… it's alright. It's the way it was meant to be. Albion is safe. In this life or the next you told me, remember? We've _both_ earned this peace," he reassured. "This one last time, Love, take my strength." This time the Bond came to him easily, however thin it had become. He let his strength flow between them, adding to it his gratitude for the years they'd had together, for all they had accomplished, his devotion and love… he held nothing back. He wove it around the anchor, used it to reinforce the shields already in place. He let his certainty that they were- and always would be- together, sharing all the memories of their life together, of their love. Memories of being so deeply a part of each other that transcended this life, and would transcend the next. No fear, he projected. Safe, and with only this last task left to accomplish.

Arthur slid his arm around those shaking shoulders, used it to sit the boy up, pulling the thin arm over his own shoulders, and the other around the lithe waist, taking comfort in being able to hold him so close. He allowed himself a brief moment of amusement when he shot a wink at his lover. "Let me do the work."

Merlin laughed weakly as it hummed in his memories. Arthur got his legs under him, used his strength to stand them both up. Arthur gave him a moment to adjust to his new height, saw him finally take notice of the Dragon patiently giving them this time together, giving his warlock time to be present. "My friend," Merlin greeted with a smile.

"It is good to see you, young warlock. I am sorry for the price you have paid for Albion," the Dragon replied sadly, and through his vision, the warlock could see the warmth, and love, in the ancient soul. The aura of the powerful race surrounded the last of its kind. He reached out instinctively, trying to touch it, trying to take in some of the beauty. He felt Arthur take the reaching hand, gently reminding him that some things were not meant to be physical. Could Arthur see it too? Could he feel the great sorrow of the soul?

Merlin offered him a genuine smile, wanting to chase away that sadness. "I have willingly paid it, old friend. To have lived- however briefly- to see it has been a true gift." He turned toward the stump. "What do I have to do?" He needed to stay focused, he remembered, a spike of torment reminding him of his damaged physical body.

"You must give it a name, Merlin. One of our Tongue. Search inside yourself, remember the power that is being a Dragonlord, and it will be revealed to you," Kilgharrah instructed as Merlin leaned over the stump. Arthur kept supportive hands on his waist, helping to balance his shaking muscles, helping him hold on as he moved through the confusion to search for the specific knowledge.

Closing his eyes, Merlin drew on the strength being unselfishly offered by his King. He found it, and let it out in a single breath "Ai-thu-sa". Then he opened his eyes.

They all three stood and watched as first one crack, then another appeared on the egg. Finally a white nostril poked through. Merlin stood back, leaning against the arm his lover had wrapped around him. He shivered as Magic began to leak through the cracks, envelope them. Life was such a precious gift. In this there was no struggle. The whole of the universe held still, waiting for this being so deeply connected to it to be born. A tiny white head appeared next.

Arthur watched, stunned, as they bore witness to the rarest of sights. A life had been given, and he felt the rightness of his actions settle into him.

"Can you feel it, Arthur?" Merlin whispered, his lips tickling his ear. "Feel the Magic?" He arched against his lover as it swirled around him, as it settled into him. Everything came together, then, when those tiny eyes met his. He gasped when he felt the vastness settle into a small space at last, when he remembered. Remembered everything that was here and now. Remembered the ties, the love, the friendships. The Dragon's aura disappeared from his sight, which he mourned, but the colors around him became brighter. The magic being released into the world by the birth healed as it passed through them and into their surrounding. He watched it, curious. Then he laughed, as freely as he had ever done. Yes. Yes, he remembered. He was Merlin. He was Emrys. He _belonged_ to Arthur, mind, body and soul. The being that he had been contained within him by the little dragons completing its struggles to enter the world.

Arthur nodded, staring at his lover, feeling the broken body writhe with wonder against him, heard the lightness of laughter the burdened boy had never let loose before. It stirred him to regret the destiny that had stolen that laugh. It took him a few moments to realize Merlin hadn't used the Ancient Tongue when he spoke to him! His heart swelled as he realized that this final gift of self had been restored to his lover as well. He turned back to the birth, seeing it now with new eyes, seeing for himself what it brought to the world. He could only grin, having no words to express the wonder of the moment as the little dragon stretched its wings, breaking the last of the shell. He laughed when it gave a little hop, cooing at them.

"It's beautiful," Arthur murmured, his heart near to bursting. At the end of his life, he was experiencing two miracles at once; it overwhelmed him, and he breathed it in, took in the love, the joy, the beauty of the moment.

"A white dragon is indeed a rare thing… and fitting. For in the dragon tongue, you have named him after the Light of the Sun. No dragon birth is without its meaning," Kilgharrah informed them. "Dragons are as connected to the ancient magics of the earth as the Triple Goddess herself. You have brought not only life, but new magic as well." He looked to Arthur, nodding at the King's questioning look. The change of language- nor the timing of it- had not been lost on him, either. He had felt the moment when his spelled anchor was no longer needed. Felt when his Dragonlord and warlock returned to them fully.

"Is it… is it insulting if I pet it?" Merlin asked, reaching out a hand. He let the little dragon smell it, but it didn't seem interested in him, turning away, turning to give a squawk at Arthur.

Arthur couldn't help but also slowly stretch out a hand, surprised when Aithusa sniffed him, then butted his head against his hand.

"Oh sure, you he likes," Merlin muttered, smiling though, at seeing his King pet and scratching the little dragon. He felt peace settle inside him. A wondrous gift he'd been given indeed when that peace seemed to wash away his pain. Not like before, not like when he had been beyond the physical of his body, swimming in and out of connection with it. He was wholly connected to it now, and the dulling of the pain was simply his own protections so he could focus on the goodbye to come.

For the first time, _he_ stretched through the Bond, let all he was wrap around his King, let his own love flow through them, feeling the hold on him tighten as he did so. He heard Arthur gasp, felt him accept all he offered through the threads that tied them together. It took the last of his energy, and he buckled, feeling the tension in Arthur's arm as he held him up, turning his attention to his lover.

"Merlin?"

"It's time, my Love," Merlin whispered, the rare endearment falling naturally from him. His hand rose to cup his lover's cheek, seeking to offer comfort, running his thumbs over the soft skin, to impart a tenderness that had so often been given to him. He'd been given a reprieve, but it was fast fading from him. With his connection to the universe gone, he was a physical being now, and this ruined body had given all it could. He wanted to make sure he had a chance to say it this time. "You never let me tell you on the field… but I love you too, always have."

Arthur shook his head, helping to ease them down to kneel on the ground. "I didn't need to hear it," he answered, tears coming fresh again- he hadn't thought it would happen this fast. "I always knew, Merlin." He leaned in gently kissing his lover, and didn't stop until those lips stilled. Until the form in his arms went limp, and those eyes never opened. "No," he ran a finger over Merlin's cheek. "No, please…" he begged, his grief creating a physical lump in his throat that made his voice crack. By the gods he couldn't survive this wave of agony again, even for the few minutes he knew it would take before being relieved of it.

"I am sorry, Arthur," Kilgharrah offered, saddened by his own loss. "There truly is nothing I could do to save him. I would have, if I could."

Arthur shook his head, sniffling as he hoisted the body closer to him. "No, it's alright. I'll see him soon." He looked down when he felt a butt at his leg, smiling to see the little white dragon. It seemed confused, and wanted to know why he hurt. He reached down, gave it one last scratch. "It was an honor to meet you, little one."

He felt the Bond slip away then, felt the threads of the Link he'd built begin to soften. He looked back at his lover, nodding as he felt darkness begin to claim him. "I'll see you soon." And he surrendered entirely to the force calling to him, willingly going to the rest they had both earned.

His last thought was that the mournful roar of a Dragon seemed a fitting end to the lives of Albion's First Knights. 


	12. Chapter 12

There was a weight on his chest. It moved up and down as he breathed. Something tickled the back of his mind, the thought that something was wrong. _Breathing_ was somehow wrong. He didn't know why, and ignored it. He felt refreshed, well rested. A good night's sleep, and he could feel the heat of the sun on his skin from the window. Another thought tickled at that, but he pushed it away. He somehow knew he had not felt this... grounded... for a long time. He felt balanced, like a great wrong had been corrected. He vaguely remembered his mind being a place of chaos, of uncertainty, but it was calm now, centered. There were places he felt he could access if he had to, but he shied away from it, somehow understanding they weren't meant for him yet.

Something cold came into contact with his nose and he felt hot air hit his face when it snorted at him. Eyes shooting open, he found himself startled to see a tiny white dragon happily licking his face. What-?

The Clearing. The tiny Dragon was Aithusa. He remembered why breathing seemed unnatural. He had died.

_They_ had died.

His grief came crashing back to him even as he gently moved the baby so he could sit up. He was in chambers, though not his own. Nemeth. Yes, he remembered the battles. The bed underneath him shifted, and he froze, holding his breath. He remembered his fear that the Link had changed, remembered the relief he'd experienced when he'd felt his own life slipping once the precious life in his arms had gone. He remembered his calm acceptance that he had earned the end to his pain. He closed his eyes, sending a prayer to every god and spirit that might listen that this was not some cruel trick, then braved a look beside him.

His breath came out in an explosion just as the Bond surged back to him, stronger than ever. Even as his eyes drank in the sight of the raven hair, the alabaster skin, he felt Life surge through the Link, expanding into the Bond, solidifying itself. Felt something drag at his strength, and he released it willingly. He gasped, laughing, as those powers came to him again, felt the burn in his eyes for a moment as it reminded him it was still there. It washed through, cleansing him of pain, of worry. A part of him vaguely remembered it being less, but he dismissed it as he felt the connection with his lover come to him at full strength.

Arthur reached over, felt Merlin's pulse, though he didn't need to, not really. A habit more than anything. It was steady, if not a little weak. Feeling the Bond surge in him again, whispering to him, he didn't hesitate to lean over, sealing his lips to those of his lover, pouring all his returned strength into him, wrapping him in the protective threads of the Bond. Weakness came through, but so did life, healing. He let the gold crowns burn again as he pushed his own vitality at the younger man, much as he had done in the crystal caves, feeling the glow move through the younger man, helping to repair some of the deeper damage still left. While there was no physical response to his kiss, he felt reassurance flow through him. Time, it requested, and he was content to give it, slowly breaking away.

"Arthur?"

He looked toward the sound of the voice, surprised he hadn't sensed anyone else in the room, could see Artemis standing at the end of the bed, looking at him in shock. It solidified in his mind that it was true, they _were_ alive! How? He remembered all too clearly how shattered the delicate body of the vessel had been, beyond even the Great Dragon himself. He could feel it through the Bond that somehow, that body had healed. It would take a little more rest yet before it was able to withstand a return to this world, but it was healing, absorbing eagerly all he could pour into it. A mind that had been linked to the great mysteries of life had repaired, had found a way back. He remembered the birth of the little Dragon who had awakened him, remembered that mind being returned to them, becoming a part of them again. He dove into the Bond again, checking to make sure his shields were still in place, grateful to find them sturdy. He explored the magics woven around them, nodding to himself, satisfied that they would hold no matter how the curious warlock picked at them. He allowed himself to marvel at the change in it. He had become a single shared entity with his lover at one point, an ability the Bond didn't allow by its nature. There would never be such as thing as 'too deep' again. He felt it along every part of him, their Bond had reached its maximum potential, was capable of nearly anything. He shivered with the power he'd somehow been granted.

"Arthur, uh, there's an angry Dragon," Artemis pointed out. "I need to check on you, but… it doesn't like me much," Artemis ground out in frustration. Then he hesitated. "Your eyes, Arthur- I can't feel the magics you're wielding, but you need to come back."

The King knew it was true. Regretfully, he gasped as he pulled himself out of the Bond, having given all he could for the moment. It was harder now, to feel disconnected from his lover, it felt a little lonely. As the burn faded from his eyes, the King finally focused on the tiny white dragon hopping up and down on his legs, hissing and giving little warning barks to Artemis. He couldn't stop the chuckle. "Aithusa, you're very brave, little one, but he's a friend," Arthur soothed, reaching out to scratch the baby. The Ancient tongue was closely related to the dragon language, Kilgharrah had said. Would the little dragon understand him? "Aithusa, tá tú an-cróga, a chara beag, ach is cara é."

Aithusa took a moment in delight in his affections, then gave himself a shake, running over to put his front claws on Merlin. He looked at Arthur, his expression clearly asking why the man was still sleeping. Arthur smiled reassuringly. "He'll be fine with rest." Aithusa whimpered at him again, clawing at the blanket covering the younger man's legs. "Beidh Merlin go breá. Teastaíonn codladh ó do Thiarna anois," Arthur tried again. The baby watched him for a moment more before seeming to be content, and he curled up to continue his nap on Merlin's stomach, obviously determined to protect the warlock despite Arthur's assurance the druid was a friend.

"I see you've not lost _that_ little trick," Artemis sighed. "I suspect I would weep for the knowledge you once held, my boy. My people believe the dragons gave mankind the gift of language. That they wept as the human tongue corrupted it into what we know to be the Ancient language, what my people call the first language."

Arthur snorted. "Mankind is inherently flawed in that our arrogance is passed on generation to generation, claiming first conceptions to truths already as old as the first man to stand." He blinked, cocked his head, then shrugged. "I have no way of knowing what he understands, and I'm no Dragonlord to speak to him as kin. All I have now is an instinct."

Artemis watched him carefully. "Are you alright, Sire?"

Arthur smiled at him. "I guess it'll take a little time for me, too, Artemis. Ignored the little things that might pop out. I'm sorry if that was disrespectful to your beliefs."

"It's alright, Arthur. I had a few days to get used to the idea that you had experienced something none of us could begin to comprehend. I expect we'll have to have some patience with Merlin, too, when he wakes. I will confess, however, that nothing prepared me to walk in and find a little dragon determined to protect you."

"He is just a baby, Artemis, a new born. Aithusa means you no harm," Arthur somehow felt sure in saying. He was touched by the little dragon's concern for them, and his apparent affections. He frowned. "How long has he been here?"

"Two days, Sire," Artemis replied, moving to thumb back Arthur's eyes, growling in frustration when the King's head turned toward the little creature in concern. He wasn't sure why, but he felt a strong affection for the little baby.

"Has he eaten? Had any water?"

"Sire, please, I must examine you. The dragon was happy to help himself to meals the staff have been bringing up since you returned, in the off chance either of you woke. He doesn't seem to like it much, but he will eat it." He sighed. "The servants think he's cute, so when he sincerely seemed to enjoy your apples, they have been sending extra."

Arthur frowned, finally allowing Artemis to turn his head and check his temperature, eyes, and breath. "How's Merlin?" he asked. He knew, of course, but wanted to hear it confirmed from the physician. Wanted to know if those improvements he could feel were visible yet to a trained eye.

"Emrys is weak, but from what little I've been able to tell- Aithusa hasn't been any more willing to let me examine him than you- the damage is repairing itself at an incredible rate. I can't find any sign of the injuries he had after the battle. He simply appears to be asleep."

"Do you know how we were healed?" Arthur asked. It couldn't have been the Great Dragon. He'd believed the regret in the old creatures tone when had said there was nothing he could have done. What could have possibly had the power to bring them back? To rebuild a body that had been utterly crushed?

"We, Sire? I assumed that Merlin was somehow healed before the Link came into effect."

"We _both_ died. I remember dying, Artemis, very clearly." He reached over to touch the bare shoulder next to him, shuddering at the all too vivid memory. "He died in my arms, and the Link took me shortly after." Those moments had lasted an eternity, wrapped up in the suffering of his loss, hanging on desperately to the knowledge that it would be over soon.

Artemis shook his head. "I'm not sure, Sire. I'm a little confused, myself. To my knowledge- when you rode out with him, you should not have come back. I sent Gwaine to bring you home for burial. The Great Dragon's roar of mourning was heard even here, Arthur. We all knew what it meant. The people held vigil until Gwaine returned. Imagine all of our surprise when he did so screaming for me, that you were both still alive!" The druid shook his head. "The boy... we feared for him at first. I was astonished- and pleased- when he appeared to be improving by the hour! Even more quickly once we put him next you."

Arthur smiled. "I appreciate that, Artemis. I'm pleased it wasn't necessary, but I do appreciate it." He looked around. His body felt stiff, and he longed for movement. "Do I have clothes?"

Artemis hesitated. "Sire, I would recommend..." he trailed off, sighing. The King was flushed with health, and he really had no viable reason to keep him abed. "Never mind. Yes, Arthur. Princess Mithian had all of your things and Merlin's moved here." He frowned, looking around. "Ian put them away. I'm not entirely sure where."

Arthur laughed, carefully moving back the covers so as not to startle the dragon. He'd never been shy about his nudity in front of anyone, and as the Court Physician, Artemis was the least likely to be modest. He made it only a few steps from the bed, however, when he felt sharp little claws dig and scrabble their way up the back of his legs and his back.

He turned his head to see Aithusa perched anxiously on his shoulder. Well. If the little dragon was going to be around, a little training wouldn't hurt. "Ouch, Aithusa! A ghortaigh mé!" he reprimanded gently, the same he as would for any of his dogs that got too rough with him when they were puppies. "That hurt." He reached back a hand to touch the scratch on his back, pulling back fingers with a little blood on them. He showed them to the dragon, frowning.

Aithusa looked between his face, his fingers, and where the blood had come from. Without taking his eyes from Arthur's, he slowly leaned his head down, breathing on the wound, keeping careful eye contact to make sure the human had no more harsh words for him. Arthur shivered, eyes going wide as the cut closed, then was gone. Aithusa looked at him with hope, and Arthur reached out absently, responding to comfort the little one's distress and hope for approval. "Yes, very good. An-mhaith."

The little dragon chirped happily at him, pleased he had fixed what he'd done wrong, curling up comfortably. Staring at the cut that was no longer there, he looked back to the blood on his fingers. He started to laugh. He put one hand to his mouth, but even that didn't stop the deep laughter. It had a slightly hysteric quality to it, even as he sank to his knees on the floor under the weight of his realization. It couldn't be...

"Arthur? Sire?" Artemis asked, confused, watching his King. "Are you alright? Perhaps you should lie back down...:"

"It was Aithusa!" Arthur gasped out, then continued to laugh. " _He_ was the one who healed us!" New magic, Kilgharrah had said. As deeply connected as the Triple Goddess herself. A choice made so many years ago to protect an innocent life, to save a pure heart from years of torment and hatred. An attempt to preserve the last great hope of the dragons. A life too young to have any ties in this world had reached out them. In his mind, he remembered the little dragon confused by the hurt it could feel coming from both Arthur and the Great Dragon. Aithusa, only hours old, had given them life again, had given of himself to stop the hurt he didn't understand, knowing only he didn't like it. An old debt repaid as a final act had turned out to be their salvation.

Destiny's final gift to them, to reward an act of kindness, a risk taken in a time when it could have come at great cost to himself had it been discovered. Not even as a reward for all their sacrifices, their hurts, their losses to accomplish the dream that was Albion. No, their lives had been returned to them because he'd decided to protect an egg that had sat dormant for four hundred years, had hidden it away until it could come into a new world, one of hope.

"Go raibh maith agat, a chara beag. Go raibh maith agat!" He felt the white head butt against his cheek, and he turned, leaning into it, reaching up to pet the creature. "Thank you, my dear little friend. _Thank_ you!"

**MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN**

"Ian," Arthur greeted the manservant currently folding laundry as he entered his room. He chuckled. "How is it possible for a man who's been asleep for four days to have laundry?"

Ian scowled at him. "Your _pet_ is rather insistent on getting into the cupboard, Sire. He likes to make a bed of my Lord Merlin's clothes, and the damage done by his claws require repair." He glared. "Do we know how long our _guest_ will be staying?"

"I'm taking him back this afternoon, Ian," Arthur reassured. He really didn't understand why the two seemed to so strongly dislike each other. Perhaps it had something to do with the manservants insistence on treating the baby like he really was a pet, right down to constantly shooing him out of the way. For all of his hissing, poor little Aithusa's baby teeth simply weren't sharp enough to do any damage when they bit. Not that the spunky little creature hadn't tried his absolute best to take several chunks out of the manservant.

That was, if Arthur could find him. No one seemed to believe him when he tried to explain the dragon came and went as he pleased, that he was a friend, not a pet. He was curious, and while he wouldn't stray far or long from either Arthur or Merlin, he did enjoy some time to explore and play, which is where Arthur suspected he was now. He liked to chase the rats. "He got into the kitchens this morning and made quite the mess. The staff have threatened to quit if he stays much longer, and Mithian is frustrated."

"What a shame, Sire," Ian replied coolly.

Arthur sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "How is he today?"

Ian's entire demeanor softened. "Better, Sire. It's requiring less and less to get him to swallow liquids, and he takes in more every day," the servant replied happily, reporting the only thing he suspected the King wanted to hear, having his own, more thorough, methods of obtaining more information. He wasn't shocked when Arthur leaned over, placing a hand on the boys' brow, and those gold crowns glowed. It was a sight he was becoming accustomed to, and understood the Bonded man was checking the warlock on a level much deeper than any of them could. He got the sense that there was an exchange of sorts happening as well. His master always took more liquids after one of Arthur's visits.

Arthur cocked his head, as if listening, and Ian felt hope flare when he saw the King grin, saw those eyes glow even brighter, then move to black. The glow the manservant was accustomed to, but the black concerned him, even as Arthur's expression changed to one of concentration. The servant knew better than to interrupt though, and so stood, watching them both anxiously. In his mind, he ticked off the minutes of silence as they passed. He would go to the Queen if the King showed any signs of distress. He hesitated only because he'd been informed of the changes that had occurred since the battle. He'd been busy with the infirmary, and the King had locked nearly everyone out of the room prior to their departure to see the Great Dragon.

The roar that echoed across the lands that night had broken his heart. Merlin had become far more than a Master to him, and he'd been deeply grieved for the loss. He had felt it unfair that they should give so much and not be allowed to reap the rewards of the seeds they sowed. Though he had taken some comfort in knowing they'd been together, at least, at the end. As they deserved to be, as he was fond of the young King too. Perhaps someday he would tell his Prince that an entire city had stopped with that mighty sound. That no few tears had been shed in the hours between it and when Sir Gwaine had returned, shouting for the physician.

At first he had mistrusted the unconscious state of his Lord, until it had become obvious it was one of healing. He'd refused to give in entirely to hope, however, until the King himself had woken. He knew about the Link. Knew one could not exist without the other. He had been Merlin's only companion those long months the boy had obsessed over breaking it. So when Arthur had returned to them in full health, he'd allowed himself to truly believe it would be all right.

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur whispered, hanging his head, delving even deeper. He could feel it, feel his lover so close to the surface. He felt sweat bead on his skin as he pushed still more of his energy into the boy. "You can do this," he murmured. For the first time in days he felt some spark of consciousness from the Bond, a lessening of the deep sleep the warlock had been in. He used himself as a lighthouse to guide that consciousness, to bring it closer to him.

Merlin gasped, arching off the bed as the overflow of energies pushed him upwards, like breaking the surface of water after holding his breath for so long. Arthur eased up immediately, letting himself slip out of the Bond, careful not to push him too far. Breathing hard, he waited, rewarded when moments later gold crowned azure opened, blinking at him.

"Hey," Arthur whispered gently, ignoring the gasp of the servant behind him. "Easy, Merlin, éasca," he soothed, seeing a moment of panic. "I'm here, tá mé anseo." Arthur kept up the soothing repertoire while the younger man came to himself, joined them in this world. He let the thumb of the hand that had never left the boys' brow smooth the skin it could reach, calming him. He was relieved when panicked gasps eased to slow, easy breaths.

"Where?" croaked the weak voice. Arthur turned to fetch some water, but Ian was already standing there, a cup ready for him, a pleased smile on his face.

"Shall I fetch Artemis?"

Arthur accepted the cup, helping his lover take a few sips even as he shook his head. "No. He's alright. He just needs a moment. Go get him some solid food," Arthur dismissed.

Merlin took a few more careful sips, then relaxed back into the pillows, looking around, a curiosity in his eyes that made Arthur nervous. "Merlin, an dtuigeann tú mé? Do you understand me?" he asked to get the boys attention.

Arthur held his breath as Merlin's eyes focused back on him, seemed to take him in. He felt his heart stop when a hand came up, fingers lightly tracing his face with that same curiosity. He felt tears gather in his eyes when there was no recognition in them. Had he pulled Merlin back too soon? He hadn't thought so. His lover had already been so close to consciousness, had simply needed a last push of strength, a little helping hand. He let the tears slide down his cheeks, felt those exploring fingers wipe away the trails they made. Unable to help himself, Arthur grabbed that curious hand in his own, closing his eyes as he turned his face, lightly kissing the scarred palm. He couldn't hide his disappointment, couldn't hide his sorrow that they had failed.

"Arthur." The King turned back, surprised now to see recognition. He nodded, saying nothing, letting Merlin roll his name around. He wanted desperately to reach out with the Bond, but he was afraid of overwhelming his lover. The familiar gesture to the palm had helped, so he leaned down, capturing the warlock's lips. It took only a moment before he received a response, then a moment more for the kiss to transform from curiosity to something else. Hesitant at first, like his lover was struggling to remember how, then moving to not quite desperation, but exceptionally eager as it seemed to come back to him. Arthur found himself needing to take control of it again, to make it slow and tender. He drew back when Merlin whispered his name against his lips, and there was love in that whisper, fondness, tenderness, concern for his tears.

"Yes, Arthur," Merlin finally answered, moving to connect his forehead to Arthur's in their familiar pose. "Yes, I understand you. I _know_ you," he murmured. "Thank you. I needed to remember. I forgot, for a moment. But I'm here," he confirmed. "I'm here, in the now."

"Merlin," Arthur growled, gathering the younger man into a tight hug, enjoying the feel of the skin against his hands, of the thin arms wrapping around him in return. "By the gods, Love, I've missed you!"

"How?" Merlin asked, his breath tickling Arthur's ear, making him shiver. "We died. I remember dying."

Arthur barked a laugh. "Aithusa. He healed us." He shook his head when he felt the boy tense in his arm, trying to draw back. "Shhh, no. No more questions. You need to rest, Love. I can feel how tired you still are. I'll wake you again in a little while for some food."

"I'm fine," Merlin murmured, even as his muscles began to relax in Arthur's tight hold, and his eyes desperately wanted to close.

"You will be, in a few days. I can feel it. It's okay. We have all the time we need. Rest now," Arthur replied softly, rubbing his hands up and down the back slowly. He didn't let go until he felt the form in his arms relax completely into sleep. Even then he held on for a little longer, knowing Merlin always slept easier when he was being held.

Arthur placed a gentle kiss to his lovers' temple. "Welcome back, Love."

**MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN**

"Durstan!" Arthur called, jogging to catch up. The Dumnonian Prince turned, waiting for him. He spared only a glance for the little white companion on the King's shoulder that had become a nearly constant presence these past few days. Strange as it was, most were becoming accustomed to it, despite the fact that Aithusa seemed very particular in who he liked and who he didn't. He seemed to enjoying hissing at a great many, though he would still at a gentle tut from Arthur.

"Arthur," the Prince greeted, offering a bow, since there were soldiers passing by them. They seemed determined to ignore the little hiss at them from Arthur's shoulder. "Aithusa," he smiled. He hoped someday the little dragon would like him, though Ian had been quick to spread the word that Arthur would be taking him back later today. It had been hard to tell which thrilled him more, the removal of the tiny dragon or the fact that Merlin had woken for a short time.

"I wanted to talk to you. First, I don't think I ever got the chance to properly thank you for all you did. Your actions turned the tide of this war." He motioned for them to continue walking. "Yours, and Gwen's. You make a good team."

Durstan nodded, accepting the compliment. "We do. She's a formidable woman. She bullied practically every one of your allies into sending help." He chuckled. "I have a great respect for her."

Arthur cast him a sidelong glance. "Only respect?"

"I won't deny my affections for her, if that's what you're hinting at. A strange culture, to dance about an easy subject," Durstan shook his head, truly perplexed.

"Then, she's aware of your affections?"

"Of course. I've made no secret of it. Nor my attraction to her." Durstan frowned then, a thought occurred to him. "Arthur, if you intend to make her a true Queen, I will not interfere."

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. "Nothing like that, Durstan. I'm afraid I will be a disappointment to the Pendragon dynasty. I love Merlin, and the idea of betraying him by marrying another... I can't even make myself consider it. Not after all we've been through. It seems so small, now, this thing of marrying just for politics." Arthur shook his head. "No, Durstan. Marriage should be a matter of love." He smiled sadly. "Though he would be grievously hurt if I ever told him as much. He spends every day thinking I'll enter a political marriage, if only to secure an heir. He never says it, but I know it's true."

Durstan cocked his head. "Arthur, you won't have a choice much longer. Even now, on the wings of this great victory flies change. Each of the leaders are seeking a marriage contract with the High King. Even my mother has put forth a request."

Arthur laughed. "I'm sorry, Durstan, but I've already said no to marrying your sister, though I'm sure she's a lovely woman and will a make a fine wife some day."

Durstan smiled, shaking his head. "You misunderstand, Arthur. My mother wants to offer you the hand of our Elder Prince. She thinks she's being clever."

Arthur's eyes were nearly popping out of his head. "What?" How had this discussion been turned around so drastically?

Durstan nodded. "Yes. She sees it as a solution to one of her problems. The Elder Prince is also subject to a politically beneficial marriage. As the Elder Prince is currently, and was previously, _your_ Prince Consort, then she couldn't think of a way to meet the responsibility without causing insult to Camelot. It was my sister who actually suggested it to her. Mother leapt on it as the ideal fix." He frowned. "Arthur, are you alright? You're worrying Aithusa."

Arthur coughed, remembered to draw air back in, to close his mouth. "Durstan, that's… unfortunately, the laws of Camelot forbid it."

"But the laws of Dumnonia do not. We will not take offense if you take a wife as well. The Elder Prince obviously cannot provide an heir and while he is not required to provide one of his own, we understand that you must. So long as your marital obligations to the Elder Prince are met first. Really, Arthur. Are your people so rigid? I sincerely hope not. I've already added our request to those of the others."

Arthur laughed, shaking his head, dismissing it for now, returning to his original point of starting this conversation. "Actually, Durstan, I was going to ask you the same thing. If you'd consider an arrangement between you and Gwen, provided she agreed, of course."

Durstan shook his head sadly. "I'm honored and wish with all my heart I could agree. But I have no throne to offer her, Arthur. I am last in line, last even after the children my siblings bear. It would not be a suitable match for her. There is nearly as much interest for her hand in those offers as there is for yours."

"Nor does she have a throne to offer you," Arthur pointed out. "It's another reason I shy from marriage. Any woman I marry would likely want to be Queen, especially if they get away with this High King rubbish. Gwen has filled the role above and beyond what we first agreed on, and the people of Camelot love her, trust her. Of course, if she ever wishes to step down, I'll give her my blessing. Her happiness matters greatly to me. But I have made the decision that I will never ask her to. I am content to have her now, and forevermore, Queen of Camelot. I haven't discussed details with her, but I wanted to make sure I wasn't entirely wrong in your affections for her, first."

"You're not wrong, Arthur. And if you should find it an honorable match, then I would happily assure you I have no desire for your throne. Especially as it is about to become a burdensome responsibility. King was bad enough," Durstan laughed jovially, mocking a shudder. " _High_ King? You're a far better man than I, Arthur. I _like_ only being a lowly third Prince and Trade Master," he grinned. "I _like_ that even Merlin outranks me. I am not threatened by the rank she will hold above me, nor would I diminish her to make my own stature higher."

Arthur hesitated. There was one small matter which could potentially be of great importance. "Durstan, you know she was married before." The Prince nodded. "They had no children." There. That was as delicate as he could put it.

Durstan's face softened. "I am aware she is barren, Arthur. She told me. As I have said, I have no throne to offer, and am under no responsibility to provide my Kingdom with a suitable heir. That job falls to my oldest brother, and he has two already. And given the unusual arrangement between the two of you, I would naturally assume any children she did bear would never wear the crown of Camelot."

Arthur sighed in relief. "Somehow I knew you'd understand. If you require it, Durstan, you have my formal permission, encouragement, and blessing, to court the Queen Regent. She deserves nothing less than a love match. Agreements akin to our conversation will have to be made on both sides, but so far your Mother has proved herself a shrewd woman- much like her son." He nodded.

He started to walk away, then stopped. "And Durstan? Send me a copy of your mother's proposal regarding the Elder Prince."

Durstan's face, already grinning from ear to ear, nearly split in two as he bowed enthusiastically.

Arthur continued walking, shaking his head, spinning the ring on his finger. To be formally wedded to Merlin- even if only by what he assumed would be a very druidic ritual. It made his heart dance a little. It wasn't something either had considered before.

He was _very_ much considering it now.

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

Arthur sat on the ground against a stone in the clearing, waiting for Kilgharrah. He had no way to call him, so he settled himself to wait patiently, hoping that his instruction to his tiny friend had been obeyed. He opened the little packet of raw white fish and sour apples he'd filched from the Nemeth kitchens for the dragon, laying it out on the ground in front of him like a little picnic for the baby. His two favorites. He found himself relaxing, enjoying this little bit of peace. They were only a half hour away from the city, but it was good to get away, and he was in no hurry for the dragon to appear. Had he been, he could have waited until Merlin was awake enough to Call him.

Warmth filled him. A fortunate day, Durstan had called it. He couldn't help but agree. While he hadn't been awake long, Merlin was recovering nicely. His biggest worry, that the mind once stretched into and connected to every corner of the universe could never truly be whole again, was assuaged. While he suspected moments might pop up, his lover had known him, had known when he was, and was present enough even to understand his own language again. With his lover on the mend, they'd be heading home soon. Arthur felt like he had left it years ago, rather than the few weeks it had been. He thought he'd never see it again.

Home. There was so much to be done in the meantime, and he had a feeling this High King rubbish was going to be more problematic than it was worth. He didn't want it. He was content to rule Camelot with Gwen and Merlin by his side. Somehow, he didn't think he was going to get that option. Especially if the other leaders had their way. He'd seen the stack of proposals, though he hadn't deigned to open any of them once he'd discovered what they were. It had, however, given him the idea to track down the Dumnonian. He was pleased with his conversation with Durstan this morning. He knew Gwen loved the Prince, knew the Prince loved her, would treat her well, and hadn't felt the slightest bit guilty in giving them the push he felt they needed.

He'd been completely shocked by the Prince's suggestion that he marry Merlin to formalize the alliance between Camelot and Dumnonia. It had never occurred to him before. Perhaps it should have, he thought, twisting his ring again, imagining it on the finger of the man he had marched through Hell for. The image made him shiver, made parts of him definitely take interest.

He looked at the little miracle that had given him this chance, currently giving little content chirps as it gobbled the fish. He switched easily to the language the dragon responded to most often. "And why not?" he asked his friend. "Why shouldn't I consider it? It was one thing when his titles came from me. It's quite another to mark it a political match. He's a Prince in his own right now, not through me. The People of Camelot have accepted him as he is, and they love him." Arthur laughed. "I kissed him on a battlefield in front of ten thousand of our own soldiers, and thousands of enemies. Since none of those soldiers have tried to assassinate me yet, I have to believe that they simply don't care. Right?"

Aithusa chirped at him, and he laughed. "You're very easy to talk to. You've been a true and good friend. I'm going to miss you terribly," Arthur confessed. "I hope you understand how grateful I am, we both are. But you need to go and learn how to be a proper dragon. Learn to speak, to be big and scary." He laughed when Aithusa raised his wings threateningly and hissed at him. "Alright, alright, you're very scary. My brave little friend," Arthur sighed fondly. "I hope you understand me when I say you will always be welcome in Camelot. Though I don't think we can get you white fish there. Not raw, and salted wouldn't be good for you."

"He knows, Arthur," a deep rumble came from behind him, and Arthur whirled. The Great Dragon had landed behind him. "He can hear your heart, even if he doesn't understand every word," Kilgharrah smiled. "Why have you come?"

"Aithusa needs to be with his own kind," Arthur answered sadly. "I was worried when he didn't leave. He's been with me since I woke up. I don't know anything about dragons- for all I know the fish he loves so much is poison to him!- and until this morning, Merlin wasn't available to offer any advice."

"How is the young warlock?"

"Getting stronger every day, thanks to Aithusa. He woke up this morning, for a short time. He's still tired, though. I'm sorry, but he wasn't strong enough yet to come with me today."

"I am pleased to hear it, and I did not expect him to be so. The magic Aithusa healed you both with was instinctive, and done without finesse. All Dragons have a natural gift. Mine is to see some of the paths of destiny. His, obviously, is Healing, for only a such an inborn gift would have been powerful enough to save Merlin."

"There are no words for my gratitude, truly. We've known for some time that the battle with Morgana would likely cost him his life, and mine by extension. I'm not entirely sure why we were given a second chance, but I'm happy for it," Arthur confessed honestly. "And I won't give you, or Aithusa, cause to regret it, I swear."

"Aithusa chose to Heal you on his own, Arthur. He did not like your pain, and so healed the cause of it, healed Merlin. I was as surprised as you when I felt my Dragonlord draw another breath. He sees something in you, and has bonded with you. It's not unusual for young dragons to develop deep affections very quickly, especially those present at its birth. I have to wonder what your father would say, could he see you with a dragon perched happily on your shoulder," Kilgharrah chuckled.

Arthur smiled at the little dragon who had once again taken his favorite place. "My father was threatened by forces he couldn't understand. I chose to understand them first, then decide which ones threatened me." He chuckled. "Aithusa is only a threat to me if I try to take one of his apples." He teased the dragon by pretending to reach down to take one.

The little dragon hissed at him, flying off his shoulder to crouch protectively around his little stash of fish and apples. Arthur laughed, genuinely laughed, and it felt so good. It felt like forever since he'd done so. The battle behind them, Albion being born with ever more weight being put onto his shoulders, and he felt lighter and freer than he ever had before. He hadn't been wrong in recognizing the hope the little dragon brought with him into the world.

"It is good to see you like this, Arthur. There has been so much pain and suffering over the years. The world begins to feel like it is taking its first easy breath for over a hundred years. And it pleases me still to come with news."

"News?"

"Indeed. Magic has accepted your apology."

Arthur looked surprised. "Oh. I thought that was… when Aithusa healed us… I'm grateful, to know that I've repaired the wrong."

"He did that on his own."

Arthur frowned. "If I hadn't made those threats, would you have been able to heal Merlin?"

Kilgharrah shook his head. "The damage done to the warlock was beyond anything I could repair. Reviving him even for those few minutes was stretching the limits of my abilities. Until Aithusa healed him, I would have thought it beyond any power I know of. Merlin was too young, too inexperienced, to have faced that battle so soon. We feared the worst. That he succeeded at all was beyond any hope."

Arthur nodded. "I know. Artemis and Gwen have tried to hide it from me, but they don't know what I've seen. I know it's my fault it almost killed him. Nothing warned me of the danger I was putting him in. All I could see was how I could use the Bond to protect him, and like the fool I am, I rushed headlong into it." He took a deep breath. "I didn't think I'd have to live long enough to feel guilty. I'm still adjusting to that."

"In truth, we did not know that your power was so closely tied with the timing of this destiny. In doing so, however, you both have saved this country years of war, strife and famine. The story we have all been a part of will live long in the minds of men, Arthur. It speaks to the strength of you both that you were able to bring him back to his true form."

Arthur thought he very much heard a subtle hint at the 'two sides of the same coin' phrase the dragon had often enjoyed throwing at his lover.

He took a deep breath. "So what's to come?"

"Peace, King Arthur. At long last, peace. Magic has no more challenges for you, Arthur, save one. Albion has been born, and to see it continue, an Heir must be born of your lineage."

Arthur groaned. "Not you too. I can't marry someone I don't have feelings for. And my heart is entirely devoted to Merlin." He looked up. "I'm sorry."

"A way will be provided, Arthur. You need only be open to it. But hear me well. Should any other but one of your blood take the throne, this land will be darkened and cursed forevermore by the deeds that will follow. This future had been set since you both returned to the world of the living. After the rage of your father, magic cursed the Pendragon line. This cannot be undone, even for the life you have returned to it. The gift of the dragon, however, has earned an opportunity. You will need a vessel to heal this curse, and it will only work once."

"A vessel?"

"Merlin has seen this in the Cave. He understands. I lend only my voice to your understanding that it must be a child of _your_ blood."

"Thank you," Arthur answered a little awkwardly. "Will we see you both again?" He looked over at the little white dragon, and felt a tug on his heart.

"I will come again to bless the birth of your Heir, Arthur. Until then, do try to keep our young friend in one piece. Magic has only this last request of you, but there are dangers still in the world of man."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So I have tried my best to progress their relationship as realistically as possible throughout this series, balancing big events with day to day, highs and lows. As we near the end, these next chapters are designed to address the one thing I feel has been hanging between them since the beginning.
> 
> MERLIN101010101101010101MERLIN

"Mithian..."

"Arthur, please!" the Princess begged him. "My father is not the man he once was, and with my husband dead, I need this! It's the only chance I have to bring change to this Kingdom as you have done in yours! What wouldn't you give for Camelot? What _haven't_ you?" she cried out. "Why do you assume I would do any less for Nemeth?"

"I _have_ already given Camelot everything that was ever dear to me, Mithian!" Arthur shouted angrily. "I will _not_ give more! Hundreds of men lost life and limb to re-take Nemeth for you! What right do you have to ask for more still?"

"I'm asking you because I trust you, because I understand you..."

"Obviously you _don't_!" Arthur hissed. There was a clear warning in his tone. She needed to stop. Arthur was right. She didn't understand him, what drove him, what sort of justice, the strong sense of duty, he demanded of himself. No, every word she spat at the vibrating King proved just how little she knew the man she was facing.

"It's the only way for me. I need a strong alliance!" Too far. She was pushing him too far. But she wasn't picking up the palpable waves of borderline violence that were coming from the King. Arthur was nearing his limit.

"There are _dozens_ of perfectly suitable... and _single_... leaders waiting just a few rooms down the hall! Choose one of _them_!" Arthur yelled angrily. "How _dare_ you even consider asking this of me!" Fury worked its way through every part of him, and he shook with it even as he paced the room, his battle blood heating with every step. He valued their friendship immensely, and he had come without hesitation when she called for help. But to ask this of him... "You, of all people, know why you can't ask this of me!"

Mithian hissed in equal frustration, easily pitting her own strong will against his. Not the way. There was no way this could end well. It had gone too far. So much would be lost from this.

"All of whom will want to be King! I don't _need_ another man seeking power at my side, Arthur. I _need_ a political alliance! You are the _only_ one I can ask this of. The only one I can be absolutely sure of!" Mithian insisted. "You won't consider proposals to you because you don't want a woman to supplant Gwen's place as Queen. All I'm asking for is the same!"

"That's entirely different!" Arthur raged at her. On so many levels, it was different! But she didn't know that. Couldn't. There was no way to explain it.

"It's not!" she insisted. And then she made her deadly mistake. She turned imploringly to the younger man sitting quietly in a chair in the corner, missing his involuntary flinch when she spoke. "Merlin..."

"DON'T YOU _DARE_!" Arthur roared in rage as he whirled to face her, and she was lucky he didn't have a sword in his hand. He would have killed her with a single blow, the red haze blacking out his vision, his ability to see anything other than an enemy. As it was, the only thing that stayed his hand from striking her down was Merlin throwing himself in between them so fast neither would ever be able to recall seeing him move.

"Arthur, _don't_!" Merlin called out forcefully, spreading his arms wide to automatically make himself a bigger target than the Princess, closing his eyes to protect them and turning his head so his cheek would take the blow. It would shatter bone, but it wouldn't kill him. He knew his King, knew his lover- knew the temper that both sides were capable of. That battle rage recognized neither friend nor foe, knew it wouldn't hold back its strength. This was the haze that had pitted a Prince against his own father. He braced himself but never flinched as he felt the breeze of the strike, surprised when it stopped a hairs breadth from the side of his face.

He opened his eyes again to see Arthur's hovering fist close to his cheek, the King sucking in ragged breaths as he fought to control himself, his face pale and slicked with sweat as he registered who it was he had almost hit. Lowering his now shaking hand, Arthur began to gasp, choking on the panic rising in him, and he stumbled back.

Merlin glanced back at Mithian behind him. "You need to go... now," he ordered calmly. She started shake her head, not ready to give up her request, but he shot her a hard glare, letting his eyes flash gold, shoving her just enough to frighten her, to get her moving. "He'll kill you. _Leave_ ," he yelled at her with all the command of the powerful sorcerer he was in his voice, entirely serious. If she stayed, she'd keep at it, push his warrior over the finite edge of his control. He couldn't allow that, and he didn't have the resources available to him at the moment to prevent it.

He was grateful when she was smart enough to flee the room as quickly as she could move, watched her go, his heart breaking for the friendships that had been lost here, today. Arthur would never forgive her. He lowered his arms down now, moving slowly toward his struggling lover who had fallen to one knee, desperately trying to pull air into starving lungs. "Arthur, it's all right," he soothed.

"'s not..."

"Yes, it is. Come on, breathe with me," Merlin encouraged, kneeling in front of his beloved, knowing enough to keep his movements small. Arthur had never dealt well with fury or panic and they could alternate quickly. It's why he had sent the Princess away. She very well could have triggered a switch, and there would be no coming back from that. As it was, Merlin had barely succeeded in reaching a part of his King in time.

"It's alright," he murmured, carefully reaching out a hand to touch the trembling shoulder, thankful the man didn't have armor on. "Shhhhh... everything is alright. You need to calm down."

"C'n't..."

"You can, Arthur, I know you can. You're starting to turn an unattractive shade of blue. I _need_ you to breathe," Merlin insisted. He gently pulled Arthur's hand to his own chest, something they had done often for each other when overwhelmed. "With me, my love," Merlin said quietly, taking deep breaths in and out, deliberately over-expanding his own chest a little.

Slowly, Arthur matched his breathing to that of his lover. The intake helped to clear his mind, the haze edging out, reducing the energy he was spending trying to keep control. In, and out. He let himself focus on the voice guiding him through. He registered Merlin's firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, holding him steady, even as he started to shake. He'd almost... that blow would have shattered... and Merlin hadn't even flinched... hadn't hesitated...

Merlin saw the change immediately, his eyes casting around until he found a bucket, flashing gold and getting it under his lover just before Arthur leaned over and vomited. He sighed, thankful that the scary part was over. Shock he could deal with. Waiting for Arthur's body to decide if it was going to breathe or lash out again was something else. "It's alright," he continued, rubbing Arthur's back.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, sitting back once he was finished, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The boys' eyes flashed gold again, sending the bucket away from them. Without hesitating, Merlin tucked himself under Arthur's arm, and the King tightened his hold. He used his other shaking hand to grab his Consort's chin, turning the face from side to side, needing to make sure he hadn't actually connected.

"I'm here, Arthur," Merlin answered, letting himself be manhandled. He knew how much his King needed this. "You didn't hit me, I'm alright." It was the final piece to calming him. They sat in silence, lacing their hands together. Merlin let the fingers of his free hand dance over their joined ones, physically reminding his King he was there, unharmed. They sat until slowly, Arthur's muscles began to stop shaking, until his ragged breathing eased. He breathed a sigh of relief, however, when Arthur dropped a kiss to the top of his head. "You with me?" Merlin asked.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur whispered. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do. Arthur, it's fine. No one was hurt. Though you gave Mithian quite a scare," Merlin chuckled.

"This isn't funny, Merlin," Arthur growled.

Merlin sighed. "No, no it's not. Come then. Let's get out of here." He stood, offering his hands, pulling his lover off the floor. For a brief moment he considered disposing of the bucket, but dismissed it. He needed to Arthur back to their chambers before the Princess decided she'd gotten over her fright.

Thankfully, it was only a few doors down, and they got inside without coming across anyone. Merlin was slightly concerned about the odd shudder that went through his lover, and how easy he was to maneuver- both clear indications the man wasn't yet fully aware. Sitting him on the edge of the bed, Merlin gathered what he needed and returned to him, expertly changing him out the soiled tunic for a clean one before Arthur had a chance to register anything. Then went to get him a cup of water from the table, thankful Ian knew enough to always leave a filled pitcher in it.

"Here."

Arthur looked up to see Merlin holding a goblet out to him, along with a small bowl. He accepted it gratefully, taking a sip and swishing out his mouth, spitting into the bowl. Merlin handed him the towel that had been over his arm to wipe his mouth with, taking the bowl back over. Arthur watched him, fingering the clean shirt he didn't really remember his lover changing him into. It was reminiscent of the days the boy had been his manservant. How long since he'd thought of the young man in association with that word? Despite the fine dark blue linens Merlin wore today, his entire stature reminded the King of the nervous sixteen year old boy who had first come to Camelot.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he apologized softly. And, wait for it… there, that deep intake of breath, the slight squaring of tense shoulders, a fake smile plastered firmly on his face as he turned around. All classic Merlin behavior, and oh so familiar of the old days. It made him feel guilty all over again for the awful way he'd always treated the servant.

"You didn't."

"You're a terrible liar, Merlin. Always have been. It's a good thing I _did_ know about your magic, you know. Do you have any idea how many times I had to cover for you?" Arthur snorted, baiting him, daring him to confirm his suspicions.

"About as often as I had to use it in the first place to get _your_ royal ass out of trouble," Merlin replied instantly without missing a beat. The King recognized the old defensive tone, too, the one that only came out when Merlin was protecting himself.

"Merlin, come here, please?" Arthur requested with a sigh, holding out his hand, pulling his lover onto his lap as he obeyed, wrapping his arms around him. They'd come so far from those days, and this return alarmed him. He didn't like it. The nearly palpable aura of _power_ that had surrounded the warlock daily since he'd been allowed to openly practice his craft had somehow been subdued in this reappearance of the old servant, and he found he missed it. He loved everything the confident, authoritative, younger man had become over the years. He put his forehead on the bony shoulder. "I truly am sorry."

He breathed a sigh of relief when his lover finally relaxed into him, wrapped long arms around him, propping his chin on top of his head. "You really didn't frighten me, Arthur," Merlin reassured him. And for a moment Arthur let himself believe him, but then the younger man pushed himself up from his lap, walking over to the window.

"Then what's wrong?" Arthur asked, standing as well. He hated it when Merlin wrapped his arms around himself like that, like he was trying to hold in a world of pain, to keep it safely inside him where it wouldn't hurt anyone else. It was a pose he hadn't seen in some time, and cursed Mithian for bringing about now. "And don't tell me 'nothing'. We both know I won't believe it," he added, moving to stand next to the warlock. Arthur was surprised when he saw tears on the younger man's face. "Merlin, please," he pleaded. "Talk to me."

"We've never talked about your duties," Merlin started, taking a deep breath, glancing at his King. "I always knew, of course, that someday you'd have to marry. You're a King. You have responsibilities and I _knew_ that."

"Merlin-"

"I can't give you children, Arthur. And as a King, that's pretty important. I knew this day would come. For some time now, I've known this _exact_ day was coming. It's why I insisted on coming with you today, you know. I knew what would happen, how far she'd push you."

Arthur frowned, remembering his conversation with the Dragon. "You saw this in the Caves."

Merlin nodded, turning his head now to fully meet his King's eyes. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I wanted to be stronger than this." He offered a tremulous smile. "Turns out knowing it was coming and being actually in it are two different things. I think it was easier when I knew we were going to die."

Arthur sighed. "This has been on your mind since we woke up."

"The Caves… they offer so many paths. Every decision changes them. By itself, it wasn't enough, not after what we went through before- you have to know I'd never put us through that again, Arthur. But when I was fighting Morgana, when I _was_ everything, everyone and everywhere at once… I saw it again, how this had to play out. The consequences of it not are darker than you can ever imagine, Arthur."

"I'm _not_ marrying Mithian!" Arthur growled, angrily. "No, Merlin!" He held up a firm finger to forestall the objection. "It's _not_ going to happen!"

"But it is," Merlin answered softly, his heartbreak clear in his voice even as it blended with conviction. "Because it has to. Magic has given you one chance to have everything you ever wanted. This is it."

" _You're_ everything I ever wanted," Arthur insisted stubbornly.

Merlin smiled sadly at him, nodding. "I know. And you're everything to me. But if there's one thing we both know down to our cores, it's that there are things greater than us, greater than _our_ wants."

Arthur pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning on in aggravation, pacing into the room. "Do you realize I almost killed her? With my bare hands no less. And you expect me to _marry_ her? And bed her?" He shuddered in disgust.

She knew how close they were, how much Arthur loved this man, and still had asked. Not only for daring to beg for his hand in marriage, but for doing it in front of Merlin! In his rage it had felt like a dagger into the close friendship she shared with his lover. The ultimate betrayal. That, he had to admit in hindsight, was what had likely caused his blackout. Not what she wanted, nor even how hard she pushed him. But when she'd turned to involve the one person most likely to be hurt by it for help, it had been too much. Merlin's flinch had called up every protective instinct he had over the younger man, and it had mixed- badly- with his fury at her audacity. He'd seen that haze only once before- when Merlin had to stop him from killing his father.

"I know."

"You don't!"

"This time, Arthur, I really do," Merlin replied confidently. "Destinies are troublesome things," he smiled gently. He shot a glance over to the sword that still lay on the desk from this morning, tossed on it casually when he'd insisted they were perfectly safe inside the castle. "Why do you think I wouldn't let you wear _that_ today? Have I ever said anything about it before?"

Arthur went white, putting a hand to his stomach as he leaned forward slightly as the realization hit him hard. Never. Merlin had _never_ , in all their years, questioned him on wearing a sword at his hip, indoor or out. How had he not picked up on it this morning? He'd been so happy that Merlin was strong enough to be up and about, especially after having only woken for the first time yesterday morning. The warlock had insisted, and had even managed to fool the quick scan Arthur had instinctively used the Bond to conduct, that he was tired of being in bed, that he felt fine. Arthur had been so pleased to have the warlock at his side again...

Instinctively, Arthur slipped into it, took a much closer look past the illusions Merlin had thrown up. Lingering weakness, exhaustion, sadness, pain came back to him. This was crushing the boy, and he wasn't nearly as well as he'd been portraying. Another day, maybe two, and he would have been just fine. But not so soon, not like when he'd woken, refreshed and full of energy. Why hadn't he looked closer? Why hadn't his natural distrust of Merlin's use of the word 'fine' warned him?

"Oh gods, Merlin," he groaned, closing his eyes. "Do you understand what this lie could have done to us? If I'd hit you, in your condition…" The blow had been designed to kill. Even the precautions Merlin had take to prevent that wouldn't have been enough to save him from serious damage. Weakened as he was, the magic to soften the blow without damaging Arthur wouldn't have been available to him, and without that guarantee in place, he'd never cast what little he could. He had moved between them knowing he was powerless.

"But you didn't. There was a good chance you'd stop. I had no choice, Arthur. This had to happen as it did!"

"You gambled a lot on 'a good _chance'_!" Arthur accused angrily, but he couldn't maintain it, and he deflated. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought we agreed no more secrets."

"Says the man who kept a dragon egg in a chest in his room for _years_ ," Merlin snorted. "An ordinary chest that no one, not even me, ever took a second glance at. I think I might have dusted it every once in a while, but it was under your Armor chest, which was too heavy to move. Clever, by the way. All those years, a dragon egg kept right under the nose of a Dragonlord. I was impressed."

Arthur blinked. "You knew about that?" Of course Merlin knew about the egg now, but he'd never told the younger man where he'd kept it hidden, and he'd sworn Gwaine to secrecy. Adding for extra measure that it might, somehow, be dangerous for Merlin to ever know. It had been an outright lie, of course, but enough to keep the Knight's lips sealed in even his drunkest state.

"Not until the battle with Morgana. I know you were the bridge, Arthur- I clearly remember reaching _through_ you- but I went so much further than even you know." He smiled at his King to dispel the flash of worry that was clear in Arthur's expression. "The shields you built _are_ holding, I swear. Most of it is contained and I can't access it, as it needs to be to keep me here, in the now. Some events, however, stayed clear. Sometimes bits of knowledge bubbles up. When you told me about Aithusa healing us, I remembered."

"Last night," Arthur recalled. "You… drifted… for a while, after we talked." He'd been terrified his shields had failed, no matter how often the Bond had reassured him they were still perfectly in place. It had become a nearly daily habit to reinforce them whether it was needed or not. He hadn't pressed it since Merlin had come out of it himself, asking him questions about his time with the little dragon, enjoying the stories Arthur told of the tiny thing terrorizing the staff and guards, laughing at the ongoing war between his manservant and the creature. It had taken him days to truly come back to himself. Merlin had been awake for merely hours.

"I was seeing today. One path when I didn't go with you, and the other where I did. Trust me. As upsetting as it was, it could have gone so much worse."

Arthur sighed. "Then I'd say we're fairly even in the secret department," he admitted. "Unless you have more?"

Merlin found it in himself to laugh. "I'm magic, Arthur. I spent time as a vessel for the very _essence_ of creation itself. I'm _always_ going to have secrets, I think, things I can't explain, even to you, who took part of the journey with me. You do too. You never told me how you built the Link in the first place. I doubt you _could_ explain it even if you wanted to," he offered gently. "And your own experience as the bridge... sometimes you say things, Arthur, that makes me think things bubble up for you, too."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, then nodded, realizing his lover was right. "Alright, that's fair enough. So. You want me to marry Mithian?" He still despised the idea. Everything about it cut him to the core.

"I recognize that it's your duty to do so. It's the only way to get the child of your bloodline." It was as close to answering Arthur's question as he dared come. The truth would break them both.

"Kilgharrah said Pendragon men were cursed. That I'd need a vessel." Arthur laughed then, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair, everything coming together for him. "A vessel!" Bloody hell! Was there no end to the cruelty of their destiny? "That's you, then, is it?" He held up his hand, stalling Merlin's answer. "Of course it is. Because you haven't been hurt enough throughout all of this, let's add this bit too, shall we? Just to make sure we crush absolutely everything."

"As you acted as my bridge, now I must act as yours," Merlin answered quietly. "I, and I alone, have this ability. This isn't simply magic- this is a part of everything I became, everything I held in the palm of my hand for a time. Through it, I can temporarily overcome your curse, as well as heal Mithian's womb. I'm not the only one being hurt in this, Arthur. This will be the only child she'll ever have."

Arthur couldn't find it in himself to care much of her loss in all this. He would have killed the woman only an hour ago. And while he would never forsake his duties to their alliance, that friendship that they'd shared was over. He had his own list of unforgiveable sins, and her betrayal- whether consciously done or not- of Merlin was high on that list. The idea of lying with her physically sickened him. He was absolutely not his father to make deals, however.

"This isn't like you mother, Arthur," Merlin spoke up, as if reading his thoughts. "There is no life for life bargain here. We're not creating from nothing, I'm simply creating a bubble of protection, of healing. It's temporary, and serves this single purpose. You'll never have another either, Arthur," Merlin told him, his expression genuinely pained. "One chance, and one only. That was made very clear to me."

Arthur sighed, feeling lost, torn between the weight of duty, and the crushing blow this was aiming at his heart. Why could the two never seem to match up? He felt lonely, suddenly, standing in the middle of the room while he wrestled with this. He moved to his warlock, intending to wrap his arms around him, then hesitated, for the first time unsure if his touch would be unwanted. He didn't want to hurt his lover any further, and this discussion was apparently far from over.

Merlin took the choice from him, leaning back into him, sighing contentedly when Arthur's arm instinctively went around him. "I need your strength for this, Arthur," he whispered miserably. "It was always easy for me to sacrifice my life. I've never been good with sacrificing my heart."

Arthur held him tighter, and the feeling helped cement the decision that was in his heart. "There is no part of me that wants this, Merlin. I know what you've seen, I know what the dragon told me. And I have to tell you, even with all of that, I don't care. I'll name an heir. There are babies being born every day, and I can adopt one. It's been done before, and will likely be again- the royal bloodlines are never quite as pure as we'd like the people to believe. I've long since made my peace with being the last of the Pendragon Dynasty. I don't feel either of us owe Albion any more than we've already given."

Merlin shook his head. "You don't mean that."

Arthur turned his face to nuzzle the warlock's ear. "But I do, with all my heart, I do. These years we've been together, I've spent more time trying to keep you alive than making love to you. You've actually died twice, and me once. When we were given this last chance, I thought that _finally_ , we'd earned this time to just be us. Love, you need to hear me. I absolutely will not do this if there is _any_ chance- however small- it will break us. I don't want you torturing yourself with it in the years ahead, either. On my honor, my duty to Albion is _done_ , as far as I'm concerned. I will _never_ regret not doing it. I love you, Merlin, and you will _always_ be enough for me. Do you believe me?"

Merlin didn't hesitate. Arthur had opened the Bond as he'd spoken and those truths were laid bare for him to examine if he wished. His lover meant every word, resonated with it, in fact, with every fiber of his being. He nodded, and he loved him all the more for it, but it didn't take away from the duty ahead of them. It was easy for Arthur to say he didn't care. He hadn't Seen. But he _did_ believe him. "I do."

"Then knowing that, knowing I won't let you lie to me this time, tell me the truth," Arthur murmured, hearing something in the Bond whisper to him. Instinctively, he dove deeper into the Bond, felt his eyes first glow with heat, then let them turn black as he dove deeper still, following the whispers. He felt Merlin jerk in his arms as Arthur reached for the core of him, the raven head falling back onto his shoulder, lips slightly parted as he forced the molten gold into his lover's eyes, using Merlin's own magic to bind his, to create the gateway that would reveal the absolute truth. "Do _you_ feel we owe this to Albion?"

"No," Merlin shuddered as the truth was taken from him. He hoped it would be enough, hoped it would satisfy. But he knew it wouldn't, knew Arthur wouldn't have gone so deep if that simple answer was all he wanted. Arthur was after a part of him he'd managed to keep hidden these long years. Not even during the battle with Morgana had he allowed his King anywhere near this secret. Transcended as he had been, this one part of him he had protected even then.

"Then why? Why push this?"

"Because it's the right thing to do... I…" he cried out as he felt Arthur wrap those threads around him even tighter, responding to the lie, binding him closer to the truth he was trying to hide. It wasn't painful, exactly… Arthur would never knowingly allow something of his creation physically hurt him… but it felt restrictive. Like no matter which way he struggled to turn, he couldn't move except in the direction of absolute truth. He remembered the magical chains tightening around him when he'd been left to the serkets. Every evasion tightened those threads, much like the chains, and intended or not, if he fought them too hard they'd cut into him. But struggle he did. Secrets, he had said. He held so many, with a lifetime he couldn't tell them all. This one, however, he held tightest to him. "Arthur! It doesn't matter! It's just the way it needs to be!"

"It matters to me. Why?"

"Please!" He couldn't breathe! Whether it was the threads of the Bond Arthur had ensnared them both in, or the backlash from the shield he had built around this one secret beginning to splinter, he didn't know. He felt panic well in him even as Arthur pushed calm at him. He felt his King's concern, but also grim determination, felt the whispers of the Bond in his lover's mind, driving him to this. The more Merlin struggled to hide it, the more he needed the truth. Merlin shook his head, denying it. He couldn't breathe!

"Why, Merlin?" Arthur pressed urgently, hurting for his lovers' discomfort, but knowing on an instinctive level whatever the boy was trying to hide was somehow vital, would dictate not only the future destiny, but also their future relationship. He wouldn't fight so hard to protect it otherwise. His worry increased when he felt the boy begin to struggle to breathe through his increasing panic, when tears began to fall, when he sensed a simple restriction turn to a sensation similar to pain, but he didn't dare stop. " _Why_?"

"Stop! Please!" Too close! Arthur was getting too close! He had to stop this! Had to find a way! Sweat broke out on his skin as he struggled against the threads tightening to the point of crushing him. He writhed as Arthur pushed further in his core, hammering with all his might at the shield around a point that was now visible to his blackened eyes. He tossed his head even as he tried to gasp for air that wouldn't come. No! He had to protect it! It would change everything! He rallied his magic, threw it against the Bond Arthur wielded, convulsing when it bounced back at him. No!

"Damnit, Merlin! Why?" He knew this had to end, and quickly. The boy was going to rip himself apart soon if he didn't. Bloody hell, what was Merlin guarding so fiercely that he'd put himself through this? " _Tell_ me why you're insisting on this! What could possibly mean so much to you? If not for Camelot, Albion or the future, then _why,_ Merlin?" Arthur yelled, letting it echo loudly through the Bond too, feeling it connect with his lover.

He felt Merlin shift all of his power to that point, fully committed to killing himself to protect it if he had to, and knew what he had to do. He offered up an apology in his heart for calling his bluff- while he didn't doubt Merlin's determination, he did doubt his willingness to take his King's life as well. More importantly, he feared serious damage if he let this go on. Already Merlin's skin was pale, sweat nearly soaking him, his breathing nothing but shallow gasps from the extended panic attack, a small trickle of blood coming from his nose. It wasn't the first time the warlock's fears had been given physical manifestation. This had to end. He sensed nothing to think that the warrior sorcerer would _ever_ stop defending that point.

"I'm sorry," Arthur breathed even as he gathered every shred of power he could collect, ignoring the desperate but feeble defenses being thrown at him, attempting to prevent what he was about to do, and threw a final blast against that protected point, determined to break through, feeling his lover convulse again in his arms as he succeeded.

"I owe it to _you_!" Merlin screamed out, finally feeling those threads break loose as the words were ripped from him, Arthur's final push pulverizing the protective measures he had placed around that secret. He choked, coughing, on the air suddenly available to him as the answer set him free, the confession shocking Arthur so strongly he released the Bond instantly and completely. He sagged under the weight of the truth his King hadn't allowed him to evade or escape, his legs buckling, Arthur's tightened grip the only thing keeping him standing. The battle had been internal but his muscles shook as if he'd been using a sword for hours. His panic had vanished the moment he'd screamed, but he still took in gulps of air feeling like he'd been slowly drowning and had suddenly broken the surface. All his protections, everything he'd done to guard this part of himself, Arthur had tore through in minutes.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, shocked and heartbroken. "How could you even think you owe me anything?"

How many times had the younger man risked everything for him? He'd _died_ for him twice! He'd spent years being pushed about as a lowly servant, years of being disrespected and treated like he was entirely replaceable. Years of living in terror that his secret would be discovered, that he'd face hatred, abandonment, death, or worse. He'd been raped, beaten, and nearly driven mad, all in the name of protecting the citizens of Camelot.

Almost ten years of his life given unselfishly to suffering, pain, and loss, living to experience only a mere handful of happy days in nearly a decade of sorrow and darkness. Giving every part of himself for a Kingdom that would have silently watched him burn had he been discovered. And somehow through it all had found the inner strength to keep fighting for what was right, what was good. Had tempered his core to brave reaching out to make the ties of friendship to any in need, even found it within himself to fall in love with an arrogant, prat of a Prince, to believe in a future that must have at times felt impossible to achieve.

It was impossible to consider that Merlin owed him, Camelot, or Albion anything at all. But it had taken only seconds of being connected to that point in the boy to fathom just how ingrained in him that secret was. The thought that Merlin had guarded this sense of debt so closely for so long settled heavily on his shoulders. He used his thumb to wipe the blood from Merlin's top lip, trying to gentle his previous attack with the action.

"There is nothing you've ever done, nor could ever do, that would create a debt that required this level of sacrifice as payment," Arthur murmured, saddened by the boys' deep belief in its existence. "Absolutely nothing."

"There is! I created it with every lie, every secret, every life I had to take, I owe you this," Merlin growled, wrenching his face away from Arthur's fingers, tears and anger mixing together. "I built it, adding to it every time I made you choose between keeping my secret and your father, made you go against him to protect me. For choosing me over Gwen, for every failure to keep someone you cared about safe, this sacrifice you can claim of me. For every betrayal I committed against you, Arthur, for every choice you've made since we've met, for the day I took your future from you by falling in love with you, I owe you this child and so much more. Even if I hadn't seen the future without it, I would press this still. It is your duty- to your Kingdom, to your people, to your bloodline- and I can see, I can _feel_ , how heavily it weighs on you, even if you sincerely _believe_ you can go another way without regret. I have guarded that secret at all costs, Arthur, because I know you, know how much you love me, know the extremes you'd go, to avoid my pain. I'd have died guarding it because I knew if you ever discovered it, every decision you made based on my advice would be filtered by it. And this _must_ happen, regardless of how much it will hurt me, or even you. My heart for your duty is the bargain I willingly made the day I let you kiss me."

Every word a wound to the King's soul and heart. And every one settling a deeper conviction inside him. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath, leaning his forehead against the sweat slicked raven locks. "Well, that makes that decision then. The future can find a way to look after itself. I'm done sacrificing for it, and I'm done letting you do it in my stead."

Merlin closed his eyes. "Arthur, it's not that simple…"

"It is, actually."

"Arthur-"

"No, Merlin," Arthur replied calmly, confidently. "You owe me nothing. Any debt we've ever had between us I think we've each more than settled a hundred times over. That's what you told me, remember? That we should stop saying sorry to each other, stop measuring who owes whom their lives. I thought you believed that when you said it, so I did too, and have let it guide me through everything we've faced, everything we've survived. This lie, Merlin, _this_ one you _do_ owe me. But it's the only debt between us."

"You shouldn't have forced it from me," Merlin whispered in regret. "You were never to know." He'd failed, and now everything would change.

"I know. The resources required to hide it from me for so long must have been immense. Every day I cherished the Bond getting stronger, you must have dreaded. And to reach through me in that final battle… I have to wonder how much of protecting that part of you kept you here, with me, on some level. That's my dilemma, at the moment, in trying to sort out how to feel about all this. How much of that lie hurts me, and how much of it do I have to be grateful to?" He carded his fingers through Merlin's hair. "Remember, Merlin. The Bond has its limits. My power, has limits. The Bond never lets me do something I'm not supposed to. If I wasn't meant to discover that part of you, I never would have. I'm sorry if what happened made you fear it, made you fear me, but I was always meant to know."

"Never, Arthur! I've never dreaded nor feared you or the Bond," Merlin insisted strongly. "Even... even after that." Even after. It was so much a part of who they were. He shuddered to think of living without it. He felt Arthur's hands move to rub his arms, trying to warm him. He would have gladly given his life to stop that knowledge from ever reaching his King, but now that it was done... he sighed. It couldn't be undone, and Arthur wasn't alone in trying to sort his feelings out. He'd protected it for so long that he'd never realized what a weight it was. He felt lighter, now. Like he'd been relieved of something he'd never been meant to carry.

"I believe that, because I think this was the last lie between us." Arthur was convinced of the truth of that. However much it hurt, however confused it left him, he knew that much to be true. For all the other secrets Merlin may be keeping inside him, this last was the only one left that could have hurt them. He wished he could explain to his lover what had driven him, but as so often happened with the Bond, he couldn't. He'd known only that something had been buried deep and desperately needed to be brought to the surface, _now_. And so he'd listened to the whispers that so often guided him when it came to the darker places inside Merlin.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin murmured miserably. "I'm sorry I can't change the way I feel about it, sorry that you have no words that can possibly convince me that debt doesn't exist. It will never change, you know, as much as I wish it could, as much as I know you truly believe it to be imagined. It will always exist for me."

"I understand that now." Arthur put his lips to Merlin's ear. "And I forgive you, Love, for all that and more."

"How?" He couldn't forgive himself. He knew what Arthur had felt, was aware of his single minded determination to keep that secret. For all the reasons he'd said, and more. And he'd been right, in a way. Arthur _had_ made a decision based on it- quickly and absolute. As much as he felt a burden removed, it added another. For all his King felt he'd won, he'd succeeded only in a skirmish. Merlin knew he would win this, as much as his heart cried out that he didn't want to win. That he wanted to lose. He couldn't. He'd made a bargain. He couldn't bear Arthur's pain anymore than the King could bear his. And that sense of duty, of responsibility, was in every breath the King took, every action, every decision. It was a core part of all that _was_ his Arthur. And it would hurt him deeply to fail in fulfilling this most vital of responsibilities, made worse still by his belief that it wouldn't. But any hope he'd had of making Arthur see that had fractured along with his apparently meager protections. There was only one way left now. "How can you forgive so easily?"

"There was a time, Merlin, when you would have bolted from me the minute I tried to force it from you. But, here you are, still in my arms. In your fury, you told me that you _know_ how much I love you. That speaks so loudly as to how far we've come. I regret that this hurt you, that you felt you had to hide it so deeply from me, but I don't regret doing it. This last hurdle, I think, we needed to face, and it explains so much of the choices you've made over the years, helps me prepare for the choices I fear you'll continue to make."

"I've tried running from you before, Arthur, it never works. Somehow, you always get the answers you want, no matter how hard I struggle against it."

"Do you understand why? Why I always push, even if it's beyond your limits?" He hesitated. "Even if I have to hurt you?"

Merlin smiled, nodding. "I do, Arthur. Same reason I always push yours, if in a different way. We'll never stop fighting _for_ each other. We don't know how, even if we regret the battle wounds we leave behind." And all he could do was pray that he was only sacrificing _his_ heart for this, that what he was about to do didn't cost him everything.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, tightening his hold momentarily. "Then you understand why I can't do this? Nothing you say will convince me it will be worth breaking both our hearts. Not knowing what I do."

Merlin nodded. "I understand." Turning around in his lover's arms, reaching up to kiss away the pained words coming from that mouth. Kissing his lover, his King, his warrior knight, for all he was worth. It was not the first time he had poured everything he was into their physical connection, making sure Arthur felt the love he could never quite put into words. In it he forgave the intrusion, expressed his gratitude, his appreciation for all that _they_ were. Through moving lips he tried to express his faith in them, his conviction that they would always some how come out stronger.

Arthur responded eagerly, taking it all, giving his own. He needed more. He reached out with the Bond, wrapping it around them, gasping when he felt everything being directed at him, and he pushed his own back. He moaned when Merlin took advantage of his momentarily parted lips to dart his tongue in, tasting all, and Arthur accepted it greedily, experiencing the dual sensations and emotions. He had only a moment's warning from the Bond before he began to taste the salt of fresh tears as the kiss turned regretful, begging his forgiveness, apologizing for what he was about to do.

"No," Arthur whispered sorrowfully. "Please, Merlin." He kissed harder, desperate, his hands moving to cup the wet face, trying to take the opportunity away from his lover. "Don't do this," he begged, tears springing to his own eyes. He knew it was pointless, just as Merlin had known when he'd done this to create the Link. He thought he'd understood how much it had hurt his lover, but he'd been wrong. Oh so wrong. To see it coming, and being absolutely powerless to stop it...

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I have no choice," Merlin murmured, breaking away, using the hands that had been running through golden hair to pull their foreheads together as they both breathed heavily, theirs tears having long blended together smelling fresh on their skin. "I don't know how to stop fighting for you," he breathed, before he stepped back.

"Merlin-"

"If I can't convince you to do it for the future, Arthur, then I'm asking…"

"Merlin, _don't_."

"I'm asking you," Merlin took in a shuddering breath, forcing the words to come from his lips as he laid his heart once again on the sacrificial altar of Destiny, "to do it for me."

Arthur collapsed to his knees, panting, as he closed his eyes as he tried to push his fists through them, though it did nothing to stop the tears that flowed without restraint. There was no spell needed for Merlin to wield this power of his. There was nothing magic about it. Because there was nothing in this that endangered Merlin's life. His heart, his soul, yes, but not his life. This sacrifice could be survived. No, not magic. This power Arthur had given freely to his lover years ago. And Merlin had wielded it as expertly as he did his natural gifts, as there was no part of Arthur that could deny his lover _anything_ he ever _asked_ of him.

He nodded, even as he wondered how long it would take to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.

"For you, Merlin, I'll do it."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: …. Yeah…. Sorry… I'll fix it! Don't worry! So not how that was supposed to go, but I had the Outlander Music & Ambience video going in the background and… yeah… my fingers just kinda did their thing. Believe me; I was as surprised as you. So… I fix it now…
> 
> MERLIN101010101010MERLIN

Arthur hovered outside the door, unable to quite bring himself to go in. He remembered clearly the last time he'd done this, lingered outside a door when he knew in his heart that what he was about to do was wrong. Not for the first time, he wished Gaius was still here, was likely to be the one on the other side. He could use his counsel now. Much like last time, he had given his word to go through with this. It cut him to the core that he knew it wouldn't work out nearly so well.

He lifted his fist, banging, sweeping angrily into the room when it opened. He found once he was moving, he couldn't stop.

"Arthur," Princess Mithian greeted. She had paled a little at seeing him. He wasn't surprised, given their encounter yesterday. Not only had he frightened her, but apparently Merlin had used a little magic against her. "About yesterday, I'm so sorry."

Arthur nodded, staying quiet as he paced. He didn't care that he was frightening her. He gave her a grudging respect when she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, bracing herself, waiting patiently for whatever he had come to say. She was no coward, he would give her that.

"I'll do it," he ground out.

The breath she had drawn in came out of her in a rush. "Oh, Arthur, thank you!"

"Don't thank me!" Arthur spat at her in disgust. "Merlin was right to get you out yesterday. I would have killed you. I _still_ want to kill you. This whole thing sickens me to my core. Do you know why?" She shook her head, her eyes sad. "Do you know how much suffering you've caused?"

The fact that she looked genuinely surprised did nothing to soothe his anger. "That you would ask me in front of him, your _friend_ , knowing our relationship, our devotion to each other, and then turn to _him_ for _help_ in convincing me to go along? How could you not think that would devastate him?"

"I had no choice, Arthur, but to ask you. I didn't want to hide my intent from Merlin. He's my friend. I wanted him to know I wasn't asking for you as a man, just as a King of a powerful Kingdom."

"It was selfish, Mithian," Arthur growled at her, slicing his hand through the air to cut off her justifications. That may have played a part, but it wasn't the real reason. "Now I've had a lot of respect for you over the years, and I will admit, selfish was never a word I would have applied to you before yesterday. The _right_ thing to do would have been to come to me first, privately, and you know it. But you couldn't do that, could you? And we both know why."

Mithian closed her eyes, tears coming to them. There was no point in denying it. He clearly _did_ know. "I knew you'd say no. I needed Merlin to make you say yes."

"Now does that not sound just a little selfish to you?"

"Arthur, I'm so sorry…"

"Your apologies are wasted on me, Mithian. Any fondness I may have once felt for you is gone. You asked for a King, and that's what you'll get. Congratulations. You've now sacrificed two friendships for Nemeth. Welcome to being a Queen," he cut her off coldly, bowing to her.

"Arthur, I truly never meant to hurt him," she sobbed. "Or you."

"Do you understand you'll never be Queen of Camelot? And I will never be a present King of Nemeth? This marriage will be by Law only. It will secure the alliance you need with Camelot, but I will never grace this castle again."

"Yes. I understand." she answered quietly.

"There is a price. It's a steep one, Merlin insists I tell you."

"I thought there might be," she answered steadily, gathering her strength and courage. This is what she had wanted, after all. If the friendships were lost, and if Arthur wanted to treat it like a contract, then she would. She listened as he explained the truth of the price that they would all have to pay for this marriage.

By the time Arthur was done, she was sitting in a chair with a hand over her mouth. Suddenly she understood his fury better, and couldn't find it in her heart to blame him for hit. Not that she had before. What she'd done was manipulative, she knew that, had known it at the time. But she'd been desperate as more and more proposals can come her way with the visiting dignitaries.

But this… she remembered Merlin's whisper to her the day of the battle. That he still had hope to offer her. He was keeping that promise, it seemed, at a great cost.

"I… I didn't know, Arthur," she whispered, shaking her head.

"I know," Arthur acknowledged. "And in time, I believe Merlin will forgive you. I think a part of him already has, the fool. But you need to know, Princess, that _I_ never will. He's doing this to ensure _our_ futures, to meet _our_ duties to our Kingdoms- _ours_ , Mithian, not his! We were born with these responsibilities, raised to know what our duties would be. For all his titles now, for however great his destiny, he was born a farmer. Despite that, it's him making the ultimate sacrifice in this, not us. And it's crushed a part of his soul to offer it. For that… I can't forgive, Princess. And a part of me is truly sorry for that, for what we once shared."

Mithian sniffled. "It doesn't sound like this could have ended any other way. That's why he was so quiet that day, why he hasn't wanted to see me since he woke up. This was fated to be. He knew."

"Of course he knew," Arthur growled. "He _always_ knows. And he does it anyway, without hesitation or pause for thought as to what it might do to him, because all that matters to him is what's right, in the end. There is nothing he won't lay on that altar, Mithian- _nothing_. I've spent _years_ trying to come to terms with that part of him, trying to protect him from it, and I've failed each time. I hope you have greater success- and I tell you now, it's a hell of a burden to live with."

"Arthur, I…. "She wanted to withdraw the request. She wanted to run away and pretend none of this had happened. But she couldn't. Hope, Merlin had offered her, and found a way to deliver it, even at such a terrible price. Hope for the one thing she wanted more than anything else. Her only hope. Lost friendships yes, but a child to hold in her arms, to secure her future. And a strong alliance to the man who would be High King. She couldn't take it back, even knowing. Her Father's mind was all but gone, despite Merlin's best efforts to Heal him. Soon, she would be Queen in full. This had to be done, no matter the cost.

For just a moment, he softened. "I can see how much you wish you could change it, Mithian. But he's also never wrong, irritating as that is. This is your only chance for a child. Without Merlin, no seed will ever come full term in your womb."

"Hope, he offered me, instead of saying good-bye. Did he know, even then? Could I have prevented this by not using the charm? Would this have happened at all if I had lost it? If, perhaps, we could have somehow found a way to defeat the Saxons on our own?"

"If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that you don't ever want to know the answers to those questions. It carries a curse all of its own, and it _will_ drive you mad. My wedding gift to you, Princess, is the advice to stop asking them."

Mithian looked into his gold crowned steel blue eyes and in them saw the wealth of pain, loss, experience, and wisdom driving those words. She saw sympathy in them too, but there was no love, no affection. He'd said it, but now she believed it. He knew it had to happen, but he would forgive neither her, nor himself, ever, for what they were about to do.

It's why he had come by himself, she realized. He was angry, feeling trapped. And he had no patience to be friendly about it. At first she had assumed Merlin had refused to confront her, but she could see now. Realized Arthur had likely forbidden it. He was protecting his Consort from realizing that this was not a thing of friends, merely a contract. Shielding him, as little as he could, from the cold harshness of their reality- protecting the little pieces of him even as he gave the greater of himself.

She firmed her resolve. She owed him no less than that same protection. She looked again to those cold eyes, and saw a flash of appreciation in them as her own reflected her oath.

"A Kingship, and one night together under the special circumstances you described. A child that will be raised between the two Kingdoms," she confirmed the terms. "A husband and King of Nemeth in name only, and I will be wife by law only. The child will inherit both crowns."

"I'll have my counselors draw up the contract once we return to Camelot, excluding the details of the ritual, of course. As with anything to do with magic, there are... conditions... that must be right. You'll come to Camelot for the wedding, and the ritual. Also, the child will be raised in Camelot if you fail to bring about a positive attitude toward magic before it's born. And believe me, the person I send for such an inspection will be _very_ thorough."

She nodded, accepting. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I truly do appreciate you doing this for me."

"I'm _not_ doing it for you. I was perfectly prepared and content to let the future- and you- go to Hell. This grace, you owe to Merlin, and only him. You'll never know how deeply it cut him to ask this of me, to access a power he has never used this way before to manipulate me into it."

She sighed regretfully. "His sacrifices keep adding up, don't they? How do you do it? How can you stand to love him so?"

"Because I don't know how _not_ to. I don't think I ever will."

**MERLIN10101010101010101MERLIN**

"Ian, stop fussing!"

"Your Highness, please!"

"It's fine! And stop calling me that!"

Arthur sighed, hearing yet another argument as he approached the door to his chambers, but couldn't help the smile that came to him. For a moment, he suddenly had a sense of what he and Merlin had sounded like to outsiders for years. Ian was trying so hard to make Merlin present himself as was due his titles. At least as long as they were in Nemeth surrounded by representatives of other Kingdoms. The warlock, however, was completely recovered from his battle, full of energy he didn't know what to do with, and was bored.

"I'll tell the King!" Ian threatened. Arthur considered that at least Ian had the decency to keep these arguments private. In public, he was the picture of the perfect manservant. Merlin had rarely ever made that distinction.

"I doubt he'd care," Merlin threw back. "And that is the most childish threat you've thrown at me yet."

"And what is it I don't care about?" Arthur asked as he entered the room, noting the way Merlin immediately pulled down his shirt as he faced him, spinning like a guilty child caught. He suspected he already knew what this was about, but was curious to see if his lover would actually tell him.

"Arthur!" the younger man squeaked out. "I thought you were going to be busy with the dignitaries all afternoon," he covered smoothly, smiling.

The King threw down the paperwork he'd been carrying, giving it a disgusted glare as it joined an ever increasing pile on the desk. "I needed a break. So, what don't I care about?"

"It's nothing, Arthur-"

"Ian?" the King interrupted, flinging the question to the servant. For all his threats, Arthur gave the man credit for his loyalty when the manservant looked at the floor, shaking his head, indicating his intention to remain silent. He sighed. "Does this have anything to do with Merlin's little escapade in the square this morning?"

Merlin shot a look at Ian, who minutely shook his head, his eyes wide. He hadn't told! "It wasn't an escapade, Arthur," Merlin explained coolly. "There are some rumors going around, and Gwaine thought it was best that I quell them, that's all."

'Quelling' those rumors had drawn a quite the crowd. Gwen had pulled Arthur out of a meeting to observe from a balcony overlooking the square. At first he'd thought her concern had been the amount of Camelot red that had been involved, shouting and exchanging money. Then she'd pointed out the cause in the middle.

"So completely trouncing one of the Lothian Knights with your long daggers was your version of de-escalating a politically delicate and sensitive situation?" Arthur asked sardonically. "You _do_ remember you're a Prince? Not to mention of member of rank of Camelot nobility. There are proper behaviors to observe."

" _You_ fought _me_ when we first met. You were a Prince. A _real_ one. I wasn't even a soldier."

"Yes, and it's taken you ten years to show me the error of those ways. I'm disappointed, Merlin. You know better than to let Gwaine pull you into this kind of thing. And you certainly know better than to let yourself be goaded into something as ridiculous as a street fight."

"See? Ten years of work and now you even _sound_ like a real King. You should be thanking me, really." Merlin teased, and Arthur shivered when he saw the old spark of amusement in them again. Then his expression fell. "Is Knight Dougal very upset? I will, of course, apologize to him as publically as possible, to make amends."

Arthur grinned. "As publically as you humiliated him, you mean." He laughed when Merlin merely nodded, unabashed about his victory. "No, he's not upset, not really. Gwaine's already soothed his pride with a few tankards of ale. Come on then, let me see how bad it is."

Arthur walked over to his lover, lifting his shirt. There, on his left shoulder blade, was a small but rather deep cut. He'd taken the tip of the sword, it seemed. He'd seen its like many times on the training grounds. Thankfully, the scar tissue underneath had protected the shoulder well. It wouldn't need stitches. "Well, not as bad as you deserve. Taking on a twenty year veteran and sword master with nothing but your blades was foolish, no matter what Gwaine said or how much he wagered." He lifted Merlin's bare wrist. "You weren't even wearing your cuffs," he admonished.

"They were damaged in the fight with Morgana," Merlin replied quietly, and Arthur detected a tone of regret and sadness. They were the first ones Arthur had given him, and they were special to him, the King knew. He gave the uninjured shoulder a squeeze of reassurance and understanding, receiving an accepting smile in return.

"You shouldn't be using them anyway. We'll have to get some proper vambraces made for you if you're going to continue insisting on using those blades. I'm surprised no one has mentioned it before now."

Though he had to admit, after watching the fight this morning, he'd been impressed, if not a little shocked. Merlin was terrible with a sword, but the dual wielding seemed to come perfectly naturally to him. They were much better suited to the younger man's smaller frame, and left him able to take advantage of his natural speed and reflexes. It had taken the warlock very little time to disarm, down, and kneel on the older Knights chest, blades pressed to his throat in such as way they could have removed his head once he'd decided to finally go for the win. Apparently, however, Merlin had toyed with the Knight for a while before doing so- that had been the majority of what Gwaine was having to soothe over.

Once permitted to practice openly, the boys' clumsiness had quickly disappeared, obvious to all as merely another façade to hide behind. Still, he hadn't quite believed his second in command when he'd first found out about the 'special training' the warlock had been doing for over a year. He'd dismissed it without much thought, months ago. Merlin spent a great deal of his time in the Garden, and preferred to do it alone. He showed up for the sword training with the other Knights as was required of him, but for the majority, preferred the solitude of the training area Arthur had built for him. A little over a year... if the warlock had spent even half his hours in the Garden working with the blades, it would explain the skill level. According to Gwaine, Merlin had dedicated much more than half. Arthur had rarely intruded on it, assuming it was purely Magic Merlin had been focusing on. Perhaps he should have been watching more closely.

"They have mentioned it, but the ones in the armory slow me down. They're too heavy."

"Yes, I can imagine fighting with a missing arm would be much lighter," Arthur deadpanned.

Merlin rolled his eyes at his lover's lack of surprise. "Which one told you- Ian, Leon or Gwaine?" He ignored the little grunt of insult from his manservant.

"Leon, of course," Arthur replied with a grin, throwing a wink to Ian. "Gwaine and Ian would take any secret of yours to their graves. Leon, however, is a terrible liar, especially when he's caught boasting of your learning curve to other knights. Has Artemis seen to this?"

"Arthur, I've looked after your training wounds often enough to treat a scratch like this." He rolled his shoulder. "It doesn't even need stitches."

Arthur nodded, accepting, moving toward his desk. "Ian, would you excuse us? There are some matters I need to go over with the Prince. And please bring our dinner here tonight. I've had about as much as I can take of the dignitaries for today."

Ian nodded, bowing. "As you wish, Sire." He stood in front of Merlin, his hand out. "Your Highness, your tunic, if you would? I'll see if I can get the blood out and repair it before the Queen sees it."

"Is there anyone you're not going to threaten me with today, Ian?" Merlin growled as he slipped off the shirt, handing it over. "And stop calling me that!" Ian merely arched an eyebrow at him, bowed, and left.

"He's not wrong, you know," Arthur pointed out as he looked through the pile. "There is a reason I changed before a training session, had a specific wardrobe for just that."

"Really? I always thought it was just to create more work for me," Merlin threw back at him with a grin. It felt good, honestly, to slide back into some of their banter. There had been tension between them since he'd forced Arthur to agree to marrying Mithian three days ago.

That tension was made worse by Arthur's mental exhaustion in dealing with the dignitaries. They couldn't agree on anything themselves, and now that Arthur was once again available- and no longer insane from his exposure to deep magics as the rumors told it- they were taking up nearly every minute of his time. Mostly, from Merlin had heard, with petty arguments amongst themselves.

Arthur grinned at him, nodding. "There may have been a bit of that, too." Then he looked back to the scroll in front of him, and his smile died off. Merlin felt his heart go with it, and he found he had to shrug off the irritation that followed it. A part of him whispered that these moods of his were becoming unstable, but he pushed it off, instead focusing on the expression on his King's face.

"Are you very angry about this morning?" Merlin dared to ask, ducking his head. "I really didn't mean to cause you more problems. I know you've got better things to care about."

Arthur sighed, leaning back in his chair, watching his lover carefully, folding his hands, as though in prayer, and bringing his joined fingertips up to his lips. He considered how to answer the younger man's question. He'd barely had a chance to spend any time with the warlock, and he knew Merlin thought he was deliberately avoiding him. Was he? He'd always made time for them before. And it had been easier to deal with politics than the guilty look that was a constant in his Consort's expression these days, the way he refused to meet Arthur's eyes the few moments they were together. Even sleeping in the same chambers, one of them was always to bed late, and up with the sun in the morning.

He took a deep breath, and decided that honesty was going to be the best policy. Avoidance, whether consciously done or not, wasn't getting them anywhere. "I'm not angry, Merlin, I'm worried."

Immediately agitated, Merlin snorted at him, getting up to retrieve another shirt. He didn't even look at it, just tossed on the first one he grabbed. "You said it yourself, it's just a scratch."

"It's not the cut, Merlin. It's the fact that you were fighting at all. And while this was the first one I saw, from what I've been told, it's not the first one you've been in. Since when do _you_ go looking for a fight?"

That was the first concern. The second was that according to reports, Merlin was reckless in them. He never wore armor, never wore anything to protect himself, often leaving himself wide open. Worse even still was the little it seemed to take to goad him into one. The warlock seemed to be quite skilled, indeed, to have avoided any damage before today. According to many accounts, it was nearly a miracle by itself.

He'd tried talking to Gwaine about it, but as he'd said, the Knight's first loyalties were to Merlin. His only answer had been that Merlin had energy to burn. Arthur had the distinct impression, however, that the Knight was worried too. He was sticking close to his friend, always a willing accomplice but also always making sure the boy didn't put himself in any real danger. Looking at his lover now, Arthur had a better idea of what the Knight had been talking about. The boy practically hummed with unused energy, and his moods flashed exceptionally quickly from one to another. It wasn't like him at all.

"I don't go looking, Arthur. But I'm not going to back down. It's just a bit of fun."

"See that, right there," Arthur pointed at him. "That's not like you. You've never backed down from a battle, Merlin, something I've always respected about you. But you've never considered them 'fun'. In fact, I remember years of you making disparaging comments on how 'thick' knights were to enjoy such things."

"I still think that," Merlin argued distantly. "Throw the First Knight of Albion title around all you want, I'm no Knight."

"Then why are you acting like one?" That was another problem. Of late, Merlin seemed increasingly disparaging of his titles, quickly becoming irritated with anyone who used them, or addressed him with one. Arthur had no clue where that little problem was coming from, but he suspected it was connected with Eliam's insistence on treating him like a religious icon. Durstan had, mercifully, taken care of it by sending the Battle Master home to report to the Queen. "You have nothing to prove to any of them, you know. Most of the soldiers are already hailing you as a Battle Mage of the highest rank, though I'd give dearly to know who started that one."

"I'm not! Arthur, really! A couple of fights is nothing. Gwaine's been with me each time. The soldiers are bored, that's all, still feeling the battle blood. I'm... obliging," Merlin answered. "And the last thing I need is another bloody empty title, so they can keep their Battle Mage honorific to themselves. I'll take off the head of the next person who calls me that just to prove it."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. Cursing and threats? "Are you hearing yourself?"

Why did the younger man not realize the titles he had, he had earned? Either through blood, sacrifice or hardship. That was the way of the nobility, after all, how they'd all gotten started, no matter how much they liked to believe it came down to bloodlines and natural selection of superiority. The only title Merlin carried that he didn't have the scars to back up was that of Prince Consort- and even that, he'd recently learned, had come with internal scars that would never heal.

Arthur watched in concern as the younger man looked around for something to do, some reason to move. He saw the muscles begin to quiver with the need, watched as Merlin rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder, as though impatient, and then lacking anything better to do, begin to pace the room. He kept glancing at the door, like he was waiting for a way out.

"What do you care, anyway?" his lover asked, clearly aggravated with the entire discussion. "I haven't seriously injured anyone, and they've always started it so they shouldn't really come complaining to you. I'll make sure in the future they understand they can't go running to you because I've dented their pride. That should solve your problem."

"Merlin…" Arthur whispered, closing his eyes. That was thrice the younger man had indicated Arthur didn't care about him, or anything he did beyond the political ramifications. Opening his eyes again, he could see that nothing he said right now would penetrate. The younger man's pacing was becoming violent, though he seemed to be carefully moderating his expression.

"What was it you wanted to go over with me?" Merlin asked, diverting the conversation. He was beginning to feel like the room, which wasn't small by any measure, was closing in on him. Add to that the tension coming from his lover, and he wanted _out_ of it. He wanted to go find Gwaine. The Knight's presence was a soothing balm these days, and he liked the fun they got into. Maybe go to the practice yard. There were always plenty of soldiers around willing to go a round or two. He shuddered as the itching crawling of his skin that was becoming all too familiar these days worked through. Too small. He needed to be out. He wished Arthur would hurry up and get to the point.

Arthur swallowed, glancing at the scroll in his hands, then nodded, putting it down. If Merlin wanted to act like a Knight, he'd treat him like one. "Your… talents… have been noticed. Someone's issued an official challenge. Their sword and shield against your daggers, no magic. It's been set for tomorrow morning, in the jousting ring. It will, unfortunately, likely be a rather public affair. The gossip from this morning is already making rounds."

Merlin tensed. "I won't kill anyone." Arthur was glad to hear the younger man still had that limit, at least.

"It's not Knight's rules. The fight will only continue until someone yields, though blood may be drawn. It's a test of skill, nothing more, nothing less. Amongst themselves, the Knights often refer to this type of challenge as a Brag Fight. They're often used to resolve minor disputes amongst the ranks. In this particular case, the insult is to your weapon selection."

He watched, saddened, when the younger man seemed to hop a little on the ball of his feet, nodding. "Then I accept."

"I thought you might, and I've already confirmed it." He looked back to his desk. "You're dismissed."

His heart ached when there was no retort to that, merely a nod and the younger man practically bolted for the door. As he reached it, Arthur called out to him, continuing to look down at his work as he spoke.

"And, Merlin? I had better see some kind of forearm guard on your wrists tomorrow. Your challenger will likely be in full armor. He has no intention of losing, and intends to see the maximum extension of your skills."

Merlin nodded at him- bowed- and left.

Arthur stared at the closed door, his heart clenching.

His kind, caring, loving, rescuer of bunnies, wouldn't hurt a fly, warlock was so eager for the excuse to fight he hadn't even asked who the challenger was.

**MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN**

"My Brother is quite skilled, for one so new to it," Durstan complimented, joining Arthur at the window in the corridor. "My respect to his Teacher. I honestly wouldn't have thought it of him. He's always been brave, but that's a warrior down there."

Arthur snorted. "There have been many to underestimate him, Durstan- far fewer who got to live long enough to regret it."

They were silent a moment more, both focused on the square below. Night had fallen hours ago and it was abandoned save for the lone figure fighting the multiple illusions he had conjured to train with. There was skill, yes, but there was a tone of desperation in it, a fury Arthur had never seen before, even in the heat of battle. While Merlin was reactive, he'd always been calm, cool headed, looking for the mental advantage. There was none of that below. Arthur's heart clenched with each roar of agonized frustration that came with the attacks. A flash of golden eyes and even more assailants appeared- more aggressive than the last. Again. And Again. As quickly as he could take them down, more came, barely interrupting the natural flow of his dance.

Durstan frowned. "This isn't practice for tomorrow, is it?"

"No, I don't think it is." There was a profound sadness to the King's voice as he replied softly.

"Are you sure about what you're doing?" Durstan asked, finally looking at the King who had never taken his eyes off the scene below. "That it's the best way to reach him? You've never needed it before. I don't get the feeling you intend to pull your punches."

"Look at him, Durstan _. Really_ look," Arthur answered. He gave the Prince a moment to do so. "Does _that_ look like a man who can be reached with words?"

"No, Sire. I don't believe it does."

"Violence isn't his way, Durstan. Something is brewing inside of him. Before the battle, I promised him that I would bring him back if he fell into darkness. I thought I'd already kept that oath, but it seems I was wrong. Believe me, all these years side by side- together- it's breaking my heart to be standing across from him. But I don't know what else to do, how else to reach him right now."

"But you are Soul Bound, Sire. Surely you can reach him through that?"

"Not when I think that's part of the problem," Arthur answered with a sigh.

"Arthur, there are additional risks to this. While his loyalties to Camelot will always come first, tomorrow he faces you as my Brother, an Elder Prince of Dumnonia, _our_ champion, since you are the challenger. He doesn't know it, but it must be so in order to avoid speculation of division within Camelot ranks. Given our proposal, the matter is… delicate. Once he steps into that ring, he joins our ranks as a warrior in his own right, win or lose. His value will change in the trade."

"Durstan, you've been a good friend, to me, to Gwen, as well as to Camelot. I appreciate everything you've done, truly, and what you're trying to warn me of. But you know us by now. You know there is _nothing_ I won't risk for him, crowns and thrones be damned!" He turned, taking a calming breath. "Goodnight, Durstan. Thank you for your help in taking care of tomorrow. "

"I would wish you luck in your challenge, Arthur, but I don't believe it's luck you need." He looked back down. "Nor do I think it will be sufficient."

Arthur followed his gaze, and couldn't help but agree.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Warning: Slashy yums ahead!
> 
> MERLIN10101010110MERLIN

"Merlin, it's not too late to forfeit," Gwaine tried one last time as Ian moved around the younger man, muttering peevishly about his lack of armor. The servant had been careful in selecting his master's clothes for today. The boy was fittingly handsome in his usual tight black pants and high leather black boots, but his shirt was a stunning dark green made of fine quality linen- form fitting enough to not get in the way, but loose enough for the boy to move freely. The black leather gloves he wore had the Ship and Staff embroidered in the deep purple. If Merlin had noticed the Dumnonian Royal colors Ian would eat his own boots!

"Why would I do that?" Merlin asked casually. "It's just a test of skill. Most likely, this Knight will defeat me, and then it will be the end to Arthur's problems and the end to these challenges, which appears to be what he wants. Trust me, he'll be relieved to hear the entire matter was taken care long before he even finished breakfast."

"Mate, I sincerely doubt you're in any state to figure out what Arthur wants," Gwaine snorted. He exchanged a glance with Ian. Things were worse than they thought if Merlin assumed Arthur was still asleep.

Merlin frowned, looking up from where Ian was tying a pair of vambraces Leon had shyly presented him with that morning. When the servant was finished with the first, he lifted his arm, flashing it, testing it. Lightweight, comfortable, and the leather securely glued to their interior provided some cushion without adding extra bulk. He was no longer surprised to see the dragons carved into them, but they were simple otherwise, silver and going from just before the bend of his elbow and tapering to a point over his wrist. Obviously ordered to be made quickly once the challenge had been announced, and he appreciated the thought, as well as the simplicity. He liked how they held down the edges of his leather gloves, which sometimes were too loose around his thin wrists.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked defensively, turning his attention back to Gwaine.

"It doesn't matter. And what makes you think you'll be defeated? You've won every fight so far," Gwaine pointed out, a hint of pride in his tone that made Merlin smile. Gwaine, after all, had spent many hours with him, teaching him. As had Leon, though the sword was definitely his specialty.

"Your Highness, as this is a public affair, Prince Durstan has requested that if you're not going to wear a helmet, you wear your circlet, with the Onyx. He wished me to extend his profound wishes for a successful challenge, and his full confidence that you will represent Dumnonia well," Ian informed him, holding it out.

Merlin nodded absently, giving a slight shudder to dispel the antsy energy that had become a permanent part of him lately. Distracted with making adjustments to the sheaths at the small of his back, he never saw the frown Ian shot him at the lack of fight on the matter, even as he settled the circlet properly, always making sure Merlin's shaggy hair suited it. He'd been unable to talk his master into more than a trim, and he'd let it go, admitting it was an attractive look.

"I've won tavern and street fights, Gwaine. This is a genuine challenge, and up against a far more skilled opponent, one who likely cares more about wining than I do."

"If you don't care about the win then why do it at all?"

"Why not? It gives me something to do, will entertain some of our visiting guests." Merlin bounced up and down a little, settling everything on him, frowning at the vambraces, trying to decide if the added weight would slow him down. They didn't feel much heavier than his metal cuffs- lighter, even, since they had none of the jewels or additional gold work- but the length felt unusual. He shifted again, his frown deepening. He felt off balance with the way everything sat on him.

Gwaine sighed, standing, helping the younger man to fiddle with the adjustments. "Well then, a few words of wisdom. Don't drag it out for entertainment purposes. Even if you're expecting to lose, go in to win, as though it _were_ to the death. That will get the crowd on their feet and I have no doubt your opponent will be doing the same. If you want these challenges to end, then you have to earn respect for your skill, even if you do lose."

Merlin nodded, moving his arms from side to side to loosen up. He wasn't nervous, surprisingly. He was anxious for it to begin, if anything. A part of him was aware this energy wasn't natural, but he dismissed it. It would serve him well today, as it had in those past fights. "Right. Don't lose. Got it."

"And get rid of that shield as quickly as possible. Your daggers are useless against it, and you need to get in close enough to take away the advantage of the sword. You know as well as I do, you have no hope of winning with your blades as long as your opponent still has his. Remember your legs and fists are weapons too, like I've taught you. Don't be afraid to use them until you can get your daggers out."

Merlin grinned, clapping the Knight on the shoulder. "Have a little faith in your student, Gwaine. You said yourself, I took to them quickly. It should be enough to keep the crowd entertained." He frowned, twisting his back, reaching back, stopping, and repeating.

"What's the matter? You've been fidgeting."

"The vambraces, they… I don't know… they fold… going up so high, and I feel unbalanced," Merlin complained. "I need to take them off. They'll slow my draw."

"No, my Lord!" Ian replied instantly in horror. "The King promised to make my ears into a necklace if he found out you didn't have them on today! Your Highness, may I attempt something?" Ian requested, not waiting for permission while he quickly removed the sheaths. "If you've no reason to hide them anymore, then my Uncle liked to wear his like this."

With a few quick adjustments, asking Merlin to place and hold his hands so, he tied the sheaths around Merlin's upper thighs, making sure the daggers sat on the outside of his leg, the buckles wound around to do up under the sheath on the same side. Merlin squirmed a little when Ian pushed a finger under the strap on the inside of his thigh, but understood it was to make sure they weren't too tight.

The manservant stood back, admiring his work for a moment, then waved at Gwaine. "Take him through a few paces- no, your Highness, wait to draw until you're ready."

Gwaine snorted, but obeyed. It didn't take long for Merlin to flash his manservant a wide smile, practicing the sheath and draw a few more times to be sure. "You're brilliant, Ian! This feels much more natural!"

"Yes, just what Camelot needs- another uppity manservant with secrets," Gwaine growled.

**MERLIN101010101010101010MERLIN**

The crowd roared to life when Merlin walked into the oval ring, his dark clothes standing out against the whiteness of the sand. He cut a handsome figure, walking as tall and confidently as any Knight who had likely graced these grounds. His black velvet cloak flapped in the light wind, seeming to absorb the sunlight that was slowly becoming brighter as the nearly midmorning sun continued its journey upward. The hilts of the long daggers sheathed on each side of his thighs glinted as he walked. A small, lithe frame didn't take away from the stature of the man.

Gwen chewed her bottom lip, looking around them. They hadn't expected so many, to be honest, but the seats were brimming to overflowing with very guard, solider, and Knight who had been involved in the battle. A friendly bout to wear off some energy had been the talk since its announcement yesterday afternoon, apparently.

"My brother looks magnificent," Durstan whispered beside her. "Truly a pride to our family!"

"He does, doesn't he?" She smiled at the Prince. "You truly do consider him your Brother, don't you?"

Durstan shrugged. "He is. That he's adopted makes no difference to us. That's why it's so rare for the royal house to risk Victim Rights, Gwen. He is our kin, now and forevermore. We will support him, and love him, as such. When he comes to Dumnonia, my mother will embrace him as a woman as well as a Queen."

"I don't even know your Mother's name!" Gwen realized.

"She has none, Gwen. It is our custom that she gave up her name and identity when she took the throne. She is permitted to be only Queen, and Mother. My father was also King and Father. When the time comes, my oldest brother will do the same. It's why I only ever use the names of those younger than him."

Merlin stopped, and as he had been instructed to do, gave a little show with his blades, flipping them and circling them.

"A natural showman! I'm glad Ian was able to relay my instructions. Look at the crowd!" Durstan whooped.

She narrowed her eyes. "You're excited for this!"

"Today he represents my Kingdom, Gwen. Is this so different from the tournaments you hold in Camelot?"

"Well, no, but it's quite unusual to see well known lovers facing each other."

"All will be well, Gwen. This fight was never meant to reach a conclusion, though it saddens my heart a little. Who would win between them, I wonder?"

"Durstan, what have you done?" she hissed under her breath as Merlin drew closer.

"Be at ease, my Lady. All will be well," he repeated, whispering to her.

They turned as the crowd roared again, the challenger entering from the other side. He was an impressive figure, with some bulk to him visible even under the layers of armor. The Camelot red and gold of his cloak rippled as he walked, equally confidently, even going so far as to wave at the crowd, who howled support in response despite the fact that they couldn't see his face through his helmet. His own broad sword hanging on one hip, he lifted the arm holding his shield to them again, receiving another outcry.

Jeers began in the crowd between those shouting for Dumnonia, and those for Camelot. The clinking of gold coins and the calling of the odds could be heard clearly, and small kegs of ale were passed around by peddlers. Somehow, this had gotten much larger than intended.

When the two stood in front of her and Durstan, they both bowed to them, and the noise died so quickly a whisper could be heard across the open space.

"My Brother, Elder Prince Merlin, Champion of Dumnonia, you have been Challenged to demonstrate your skill with a rather unique weapon. Your opponent bears right to a sword and shield in full armor. Should you prove the vitality of your chosen weapons, there may be some changes coming to Dumnonia," Durstan shouted. There was a roar of laughter from the Dumnonian soldiers. "Do you accept the challenge in the terms put forth?"

"I do," Merlin replied confidently. He did a quick draw, spun the blades with his fingers, and sheathed them again, drawing another roar and applause. Gwen was a little surprised, but she supposed she shouldn't be. Merlin had always been quite adept at working a crowd. She had to cover her mouth to hide her smile when his opponent snorted. She cleared her throat, and opened her mouth, but Durstan wasn't finished.

"Your Highness, it is with the deepest respect that I make a request. Your magic is known to all. Should you succeed, I wouldn't want your victory soiled by rumor of cheating," Durstan called out loudly. The crowd booed and hissed, but there were none who called out actively against it. Taking a scroll out, Durstan held it high. "We, who are low before you, Emrys, request that you consent to being bound to this spell. It will not harm you, and will temporarily contain your magic." The Prince unrolled it, and held it out flat to him.

Merlin swallowed, but nodded, moving forward. Gwen saw him hesitate only a moment before he placed his hand flat on it. She glanced sideways, saw the uneasy tension that had appeared in the other man, but he made no move to dispute it.

Merlin's eyes burned that beautiful gold as he spoke. " _Fordyttest dreócræft_!" he cast, yelling it loudly, wincing as he felt the binding begin. Breathing heavily, he stepped back. Raising his arms so everyone could see, he smashed them together at the wrists, creating a flash of light, as he shouted "Táim faoi cheangal," though few would recognize it as a ritual statement rather than a part of the spell.

She watched in concern as the dragons on the vambraces glowed a deep red, and Merlin started to bend forward a little, obviously in some pain, but managed to keep them together until the glow faded. The man beside him took a step toward him, a concerned hand held toward him, but Merlin shook his head, lowering his arms, shaking them.

"I'm alright, friend, thank you. It's fair, after all." He flashed a grin. "At least they know they'll get a good show now, eh?"

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief, nodding at Durstan. Her turn now. "As the Challenger, and Champion of Camelot, do you call these terms fair and acknowledge that the matter of magic has been settled, Arthur, King of Camelot?" she called out.

Arthur removed his helmet, nodding. "I do," he yelled over the sudden noise of the crowd.

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

Arthur kept a very close eye on his lover during his reveal, watching his reaction. He'd give Merlin credit. The shock that crossed his face was fleeting, instantly replaced by a grim resolve. Up until now, the boys' entire demeanor had been one of fun, though tense with barely contained patience and energy for the ceremonial beginning.

"So it's like that, then, is it?" Merlin asked him.

Arthur nodded, holding his eyes. "It's like that."

"Fine. But I'm not holding back."

"I'd be terribly disappointed if you did," Arthur replied honestly. Then he hesitated, pointing at the spelled vambraces. "Those aren't hurting you, are they? That was never part of this, I'm not sure why Durstan did it. I never considered for a second you would use magic to cheat in this."

Merlin frowned, looking down at them. There was a faint flicker of gold in his eyes, and he winced, hissing, but then he shook his head. "Only if I tried to access it. Considering what I am, I think it's more than fair." He took a deep breath and shook his arm again.

"Are you ready?" Arthur asked after a moment.

"Let's go give them a show, shall we?"

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

Ten minutes into the fight, and Gwen could barely stand to watch any more. It was clear neither man was holding back, and there'd be bruises aplenty from this. No cuts so far, thankfully.

"They are dancing beautifully," Durstan noted, shouting support when Merlin used a sweeping leg to knock Arthur down for the fourth time. He still hadn't armed himself, and had instead concentrated on dodging, blocking with his braces, and working to knock Arthur down as often possible. "OH! YES!" Durstan hooted as Merlin took his King down, again! "Look at that speed!"

"I don't understand. Arthur's not holding back. Why isn't Merlin armed?" Gwen panicked. She'd attended many tournaments, but this was so different. It was hurting her heart to see her two best friends at odds with each other, even in a light competition. She wished she could summon Durstan obvious enthusiasm and enjoyment. She'd been terrified that revealing Arthur's identity would hamper the warlock, but now her biggest concern was that, if anything, it seemed to increase both their genuine efforts to win the match.

"Don't you see, My Lady? The daggers are close combat weapons. As long as Arthur has the shield, they're all but useless. My Prince is trying to make the shield as big a liability as possible for the King! Very clever! There? See! Arthur's thrown away his shield!" The Princes' eyes were alight with mirth, delighting in the competition.

"How can you bear to watch this?" Gwen asked.

Durstan looked at her, smiling. "I promised you all would be well, and it will be. Long before they manage to seriously hurt each other. In the meantime, I intend to enjoy the fight. This is as close as we'll ever come to having an accurate guess at which one of them would win. Arthur is strong, well trained, disciplined- look at how steady he is in his footwork! Truly a Master of his weapon. Merlin is younger with his, but he's so fast, darting in and out, constantly moving, taking every advantage of the slower swing of the sword. He's making good use of his pivot circles. Oh yes, my Lady, incredibly exciting!"

Gwen watched for a few minutes more, watched as Merlin rolled out of the way of a powerful swing of Arthur's sword, his daggers finally drawn by the time he reached his feet. It was impressive, she had to admit, as Merlin fell for a feint, barely managing to block the blow with the opposite arm, but having no chance to gain enough balance to swing with his second dagger. The sound of steel sword hitting the steel brace thrown up in defense carried through the ring.

Actually, she considered, it _was_ very exciting, at that.

**MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN**

Merlin was breathing heavily, and was starting to understand where his disadvantage was. His style required a lot of movement, took a lot of stamina. Arthur's footwork was stable, balanced, and required very little correction. Add on top of that a lifetime of training going against only a few years, and even with the energy coursing through him, Merlin knew he couldn't keep it up much longer.

He raised his arm to block another blow with the brace, wincing as it vibrated down through his arm, reaching out with his second blade into the opening Arthur left him, sliding it into the open side of Arthur's armor, allowing only the tip to penetrate the weak point of the chainmaille.

Arthur gasped, going down to one knee when he felt the minor stab. He made a mental note to pay _much_ closer attention to Merlin's time in the Garden in the future. The younger man was quick, confident, and _where_ had he learned that much stamina?

"Yield, Arthur," Merlin told him, flipping his blades as he backed up, allowing him time to recover. "That could have gone much deeper. The next one might."

"I won't," Arthur replied evenly, understanding Merlin wouldn't come after him again until he rose- despite the calls to 'finish him' coming from the crowd. He rose to his feet, taking up his stance again.

"Why are you doing this?" Merlin growled, catching Arthur's next swing in between his blade, twisting them to throw it aside. Even still, his arm burned where the tip dragged across it when Arthur used his own momentum to thrust back at him. He barely felt it through the hum that increased inside him.

"You wanted to fight, Merlin, so stop talking and _fight_!" Arthur twirled away from the blade that nearly took of his ear, sliding a shallow cut across Merlin's side that the younger man didn't even seem to feel.

"I didn't want to fight _you_!" Merlin hissed, managing to duck around and take a slash at Arthur's calf, which the King barely avoided with a back step that left him unstable. Moving quickly, Merlin danced around him, managed to get Arthur's sword in between his blades, twisting sharply. He would have successfully disarmed his lover if it wasn't for the fist Arthur pounded into his unprotected ribs, breaking his hold.

"Are you sure about that?" Arthur called, dancing backwards. "Cause it seems like you're willing to fight everyone else. What? I'm too strong an opponent?"

Merlin whirled, planting his foot firmly on Arthur's, delivering a vicious upper cut that left the King staggering, pulled just enough so as not to break his lover's jaw. Just.

"I don't want to hurt you," Merlin pleaded. "Not again. I would never have accepted if I'd known it was you." He flattened himself to the ground to miss a swing that may have taken off his head if he'd been a second slower. Swinging his legs, he caught Arthur just behind the knees, bringing him down to his knees. The move left him defenseless, and Arthur didn't hesitate to punch the hilt of his sword into his thigh- hard!

"You should have thought about before entering my arena, Merlin. I can't match you in magic, but this… this is _my_ world!" Arthur informed him, rolling, twisting midway to plunge the hilt into Merlin's stomach, trying to knock the wind from him.

"We both know I'll let you cut me to pieces before hurting you," Merlin gasped out. He shuddered as a wave of that unusual energy went through him, and he danced left, feinting, then whirled sharply right.

Arthur moved his sword up quickly, barely blocking the blade that was inches from his eye, grunting at the effort of holding it at bay as Merlin pressed forward. "Then yield!" Arthur growled. "If you truly don't want to fight me, _yield_!"

Arthur was stunned when tear filled azure eyes met his, a look of incredible terror and panic in them. "I can't," Merlin whispered. "I don't know how else to burn it." Then those eyes shut him out again, clouding over as he pushed off, twisting around to bring his blade lightly across the back of Arthur's thigh.

Arthur grunted, limping away from the strike, playing right into Merlin's follow up- his elbow into the back of Arthur's head, just hard enough to lightly stun him- and found himself on one knee, Merlin's dagger held shakily to his throat. Merlin had won. The screams from the crowd made it clear they'd seen it too.

"Yield," Merlin called.

Arthur looked at him, saw the shaking muscles, felt the blade dancing lightly across the skin on his throat, the wide eyes, the other blade poised for the finishing blow. He saw the boy was soaked in sweat. Everything about should have screamed exhaustion, but it didn't. He was still, somehow, humming with that energy, _vibrating_ with it. His breaths coming in ragged draws, even the up and down movement of his chest jerky.

And suddenly, Arthur understood. He knew what this was all about. He wanted to laugh and wanted to cry all at once. He'd been such an arrogant fool!

"No."

With a roar of frustration, Merlin flung himself back, dancing back and forth, as he waited for Arthur to get up, the crowd shouting at them, encouraging them to yield. Arthur did so slowly. His own muscles were shaking with exhaustion. Merlin was, indeed, skilled with his daggers. And as ruthless a fighter as Arthur had ever seen, not that he should be surprised given that Gwaine had been his trainer. And the warlock had always been at his best when backed into a corner.

Merlin continued to pace back and forth, flipping his daggers as he did so, for all the world looking like a caged cat. Arthur was sure if he had a tail, he'd be swishing it. His tunic was soaked in sweat, but everything about the impatient energy indicated he was ready to go for hours more.

Arthur took his time in taking off each piece of his armor, watching his lover as he did so. Watched those eyes get wider even as he paced, occasionally giving a little hop, swinging his arms back and forth to loosen them.

The King dropped the last piece into the pile, barely bringing his sword up to defend against Merlin's charge.

**MERLIN10101010101MERLIN**

Gwen grabbed Durstan's hand.

"This has gone far enough," she said. "End it. Now."

Durstan nodded, watching the two with concern. Just as Merlin managed to get his leg under Arthur's ankles again, he ripped the scroll in half.

**MERLIN1010101010MERLIN**

Merlin cried out just as Arthur's back hit the ground, and the King didn't hesitate to roll up, expecting to defend. But rather instead of taking advantage of Arthur's vulnerable position, Merlin dropped to his knees, holding his arms out in front of him as the dragons on the dented vambraces glowed briefly white, then died out.

Instantly, Arthur was on his knees next to his trembling warlock. Something had changed. Merlin was trying to curl into himself, either in pain, or like he did when he was trying to hold something in.

"Merlin!"

"Get them out!" Merlin hissed, looking at his King desperately with violently swirling molten gold eyes. "My magic… get them out!"

Arthur was running before he'd finished his last word, shouting at everyone to leave the ring, immediately.

Durstan looked troubled as he ran onto the field to meet Arthur, Gwen not far behind him. "What's wrong?"

"The binding on Merlin's magic has come apart. He's losing control of it as it comes back to him. Get everyone out of the immediate area as fast as you can!" Arthur ordered. His expression softened when he saw the horrified look on Durstan's face. "It's alright, Durstan, it wasn't your spell. There's something much bigger going on. I'll explain later. Go on now, get these people to safety."

Gwen reached out, grabbing his arm as he went to return to the warlock. "Arthur, what about you?"

"I'll be fine, Gwen. His magic can't hurt me. Don't worry. This won't hurt either of us, but I'm not willing to take that gamble on whoever else it touches. As long he's holding both, there's no way to predict the outcome if either get loose before he's ready. Make sure you clear out the tents. We don't have much time. Go!"

He turned back to his lover, skidding to one knee next to him, a plan already forming.

"Merlin, can you walk?"

Merlin nodded, and let himself be helped to his feet, his arm pulled over Arthur's shoulder as the King led him away from the ring, toward the forested area behind it. It didn't take long before Arthur was hauling more than helping as they half ran. "Hang on, Merlin," Arthur whispered.

"It's too strong," Merlin gasped.

"We're almost there," Arthur reassured, making a sharp turn, bringing them to some caves he remembered playing in as a child. If they could make it just a few more feet, there was a deep crater. "Almost."

"Arthur!" Merlin cried out, throwing himself forward, barely catching himself on his arms, his head hanging down as he shook. A pulse emanated from him as he jerked.

Arthur knelt next to him, rubbing his back. "Merlin, Love, focus on me for a moment," Arthur ordered urgently. He pointed to right in front of them. "That crater goes so far down you never hear the rock hit the bottom. I need you to focus your magic into it."

Merlin shook his head. "No… Arthur, you don't understand…" He cried out as another pulse came from him.

"I do, Merlin, you need to trust me. Please! Use your magic. We'll deal with the other after but as long as you're holding both in, they are dangerous. You can't contain them both, not for much longer," Arthur insisted. "Let your magic go… it's the only one of the two you can control! Do it!"

Cursing, Merlin looked at the crater, his eyes flashing gold, screaming as flames poured into it. Arthur flung up an arm to protect his eyes from the heat as they were fed into the crater, turning his head away. He gasped as he felt his lungs burn a little when the moisture in the air evaporated. He heard explosions of rock echo up through the crater as the stone itself heated.

Then suddenly it stopped, and Merlin was slowly pushing himself to his knees, coughing on the dry air. He was still vibrating, but his eyes were blue again as he panted.

"Impressive. No more binding spells for you," Arthur noted with a grin, seeing the cavern was well lit up with still molten rock. Merlin grunted, but could do no more than cough violently. He wished he had some water to offer the warlock but he'd brought none, his first priority getting them somewhere safe Merlin could release the build up of magic caused by the binding spell.

"Arthur…" Merlin groaned, his shaking becoming more violent.

"Do you know what's happening to you?" Arthur asked, putting a hand on his lovers' shoulder.

Merlin shook his head. "No. It feels… Arthur, it's hard to breathe," he gasped.

"I know. The binding spell made this all so much worse, but it only added to an existing problem, sped it up. Merlin, focus on me. Tell me why you've been fighting."

"Energy," Merlin gasped. "There's so much of it, since I woke up. Gwaine and I were at the tavern. We got into a fight. It burned off a lot of it."

Arthur nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "Well, it's good to know you didn't actually want to kill me," Arthur deadpanned. "I was starting to think you were drawing out the fight just to properly humiliate me."

Merlin shook his head, trying to take deep breaths, only to find himself coughing on them again. "Never wanted to hurt you again, Arthur. Just… couldn't stop… it wasn't burning off… there's so much of it..."

"Because of the binding spell. In trying to do what's best for you, Merlin, Durstan and I both made some very big mistakes." He wrapped his hand around Merlin's arm. "Come on, you need to move or it's going to suffocate you."

Arthur hauled him up, pulling his arm over his shoulders again, could see the lack of air was making the younger man dazed. "We're going to be moving very quickly. You need fresh air," he explained, already starting to move forward out of the cave. "There's a lake about two miles west from here. As soon as you can breathe again, I want you to head for it at a dead run."

"Arthur…" Merlin objected, even as he gulped in the fresh air that hit them when they exited.

"I mean it, Merlin, run as fast as you can for as long as you can. I know your body is tired, but you've _got_ to burn some of this off. I'll catch up as quickly as I can, but don't go into the water! Your body will have nothing left after that, and you'll drown- do you understand?" Arthur pressed urgently, feeling the shaking getting worse even as his lover's breathing began to even out.

Merlin nodded. "I understand."

"Trust me, alright? I know what this is," Arthur reassured.

They stumbled forward for about another ten minutes when his lover wrenched loose of him, then took off. Arthur let him go, taking a moment to catch his own breath. He would have given anything to stay with the warlock, but Merlin had always been faster than him- the advantages of his light frame.

Taking a moment, he started to strip until he was down to his tunic, pants, and boots. Everything else that would weigh him down was in a pile. He needed every advantage for speed he could get. He sighed. A hard run on top of his cuts and bruises sounded like a good punishment for his arrogance in thinking Merlin was acting strangely because of him, for not looking closer. Damn him for the fool he was!

And now he had two miles to figure out how to shove two buckets of water into one without spilling a drop.

He ran.

**MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN**

Arthur bent over, sucking in his breath, when he finally came to the lake. He thought his old sword teacher would be impressed with the time he'd made in each mile. The man loved to send them running under the pretense of stamina training. It didn't take them long to figure out the old man would enjoy some time with his flask while they were gone.

Feeling his breathing finally even out, he looked around the Lake- relieved not to see Merlin in it- for his lover, and found him sitting calmly on a log just past the edge of the lake, boots off and feet swishing back and forth in the water. He looked better, wasn't shaking anymore.

Well, at least he _mostly_ listened, Arthur thought, walking over to him. The lake was tempting him, too. Removing his shirt, he tossed it flat to dry on the grass, since it was completely drenched in sweat, next to Merlin's equally slowly drying shirt. Perhaps he should moderate himself a little more at the feasts, or spend a little extra time training.

"Feeling better?" Arthur asked, sitting on the sand to take off his own boots.

Merlin looked at him, nodding. "A little more stable." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Arthur. For the fight."

"Don't be. I was impressed. You're probably lucky I didn't find out what you were capable of years ago. You'd have been a Knight of Camelot!" Arthur chuckled. "And no, before you start to think it, I wasn't holding back."

"The Code of Camelot would have prevented that. I was safe," Merlin teased back with a smile.

"From that, perhaps. But not from becoming a frequently used sparring partner. Really, Merlin. You're quick, agile, strong, adaptable… everything I look for in a Knight. You won that fight against superior skill, a larger opponent, and against a fully armored foe," Arthur complimented sincerely. "I'm almost appalled it was done in the name of Dumnonia rather than Camelot. And if a word of what I've just said reaches Gwaine's ears, I swear I'll put you in the stocks for a month!"

"To be fair, I have cleaned and put that armor on you so often I know every weak spot on it. I did take advantage of that," Merlin offered with a laugh.

"Of course you did. You're _supposed_ to, Merlin." Arthur shot him a look, noticed a barely visible shudder in the younger man. "We'll have to try that again when you're not carrying around the energies of the cosmos inside you." Two miles to think, and he was no closer to a solution now than when he'd started out.

Merlin frowned at him. "How come you get to remember little bits and pieces, like knowing in this Age what the word 'cosmos' means, and I feel like I'm going to shake apart any second?"

"Because I was only the bridge to keep you tethered to your task, Love. You… transcended to being a whole other level of existence. As you said, for a little while you were the essence of creation itself. How small your body must feel now, how restraining. "

"But it was contained," Merlin countered, leaning into his lover when Arthur sat next to him on the log, sighing in relief as the cool water hit his burning feet. "I _know_ those shields were holding."

"I think this is my fault. I think when I tore that secret from you, I weakened what I had built. I've never used the Bond like that before, never used it to hurt you. I was… frightened… of it, to be honest. I haven't been using it to reinforce what was protecting you," Arthur admitted softly as he wrapped the younger man in his arms. "I… I took something from you that you didn't want to give, that you were willing to rip yourself apart to protect, and I did it purely on instinct. I've been terrified to reach for it ever since."

"The Bond didn't hurt me, Arthur. _I_ did, trying to protect something that I knew would hurt you very badly to know. And I was right, by the way," Merlin murmured. "I have as much confidence in believing the Bond can't hurt me as you do in knowing my magic can't hurt you. By themselves, they're harmless. It's not until you add what you and I can do to each other, and to ourselves, that things get messy." He sighed contentedly. "Gods, I've missed this. Just being held by you."

"Why didn't you tell me what was happening?" Arthur asked, feeling his lover tense, another shudder going through him. It was building again.

"Because when you said you were done sacrificing, and done letting me do it in your stead, I felt it, felt how true that was for you. And then I forced you to do it anyway. I have no excuse of being possessed this time. I did it deliberately. I've never wanted to hurt you like that, but I did it without hesitation, for the good of a future that neither of us would be around to see. I betrayed you, Arthur. I... I didn't think you could bear to be around me, not after that."

Arthur tightened his arms when he felt the younger man try to move away from him. "Don't… don't run from me," he whispered, nuzzling his lovers ear. "No matter what, Merlin, never run from me again. Swear it."

Merlin closed his eyes as he settled back, gasping when he felt Arthur's lips on his throat. "Never again," he promised.

"And you need to know, I'm not angry, I never was. I knew you'd find a way to do it, Love, because that's who you are," Arthur murmured, giving a light bite to Merlin's pulse point, adoring the moan he received in response. "I love you, Merlin, with all that I am, and I would not willingly deny you anything you ever asked. But I have been known to stand my ground in order to protect you from yourself. That you asked it of me knowing how I felt, dared to wield that power over me in such a way… I was powerless to stop you from making this sacrifice, and I knew it."

"A son, Arthur," Merlin panted as Arthur sucked hard on his throat, marking him, claiming him back.

Arthur froze, his heart stopping with the words. "A son?" he whispered. He couldn't deny the feeling that swelled in his heart at the idea. He'd meant everything he told Merlin. That being the end of the Pendragon line didn't bother him. But to _know_ … a son. The continuation of an empire, his final duty met. The Crowned Prince of Albion, not just Camelot. His breath exploded out of him as he realized he'd been holding it.

Merlin nodded, smiling. "A beautiful, golden haired, little boy with your eyes, and your mother's gentle smile. He loves to laugh, Arthur, and is a good, pure soul. To have met him, and recognized so much of you in him- how could I not instantly love him? How could I not give all I am, risk everything, to ensure his birth?"

Arthur laughed, putting a hand over his mouth as a joy he'd never experienced filled him. Tears came to his eyes. "You've given me a son," he half laughed, half sobbed, holding the man more tightly to him.

"Mithian…." Merlin corrected.

"Is a means to an end, a tool, nothing more. This child is _our_ s, Love," Arthur interrupted. "Our _son_." The words filled him with a tenderness he thought he'd never get tired of feeling. "Marry me, Merlin."

"That's not funny."

"I'm serious," Arthur turned the younger man in his arms so they were facing each other, his one hand running up and down a shaking arm, the other cupping his beloved's face. "Under Camelot and Nemeth Laws I will marry Mithian- only because they'd never recognize you. But under Dumnonian Laws, I can marry you, Elder Prince, sanctioned by their laws and religion. Because you're a man, they've made allowances for the need to marry a woman, but they would recognize only _our_ marriage. There is nothing in Camelot law saying I can't do both, only that an heir… our son, Merlin… needs be provided."

Merlin shifted. "Arthur, those titles..."

"Are all honestly earned, in battle if not by lineage, Merlin. You have more than enough scars to prove each one," Arthur pointed out, regretfully tracing some with his fingers.

"But it's birth that matters. I was born a peasant, and will always be a peasant. Peasant's don't marry Kings, no matter how prettily you dress them up," Merlin insisted, plucking at the fine black pants.

Arthur laughed at him. "Merlin, you were _born_ Emrys, the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth and Dragonlord descended. You were _born_ of Destiny itself. You were _born_ to rule by my side, an equal to balance the power of the Once and Future King. Titles are a thing of man, Love, and you were _born_ to be so much more than they could ever begin to issue you. The titles you carry are merely a way of lowering your birthright into a status us lowly mortal men can comprehend, to fit you inside a category that makes sense to us. You were _raised_ a peasant, Merlin, but you were never _born_ one. When they day comes that they name me High King, I will gladly bend knee to you to prove it, if I must."

Merlin shuddered, the words of Sigan returning to him. ' _Arthur will kneel at your feet._ ' "I don't want that," he repeated strongly now, to both his King and the memory. "Never that. I was born to serve you, Arthur, and I'm proud of that, whatever else I was born to be."

"Then serve me, Merlin- as Prince, Consort, Warlock, Duke, Dragonlord, Knight- knowing always in your heart that the High King of Albion would learn to walk on _his_ knees in reverence to the birthright you carry, grateful and humbled in the knowledge that you, Mighty Emrys, have _chosen_ to serve a lesser being."

Arthur leaned in, capturing those lips that were opening and closing in shock, grinning as they instantly responded to him, moving with his. "Marry me," he whispered against them. He shivered as he felt Merlin's delicate fingers tracing his powerful jaw as it worked, taking and giving everything their joined mouths could offer each other. "Marry me, my Lord."

"Yes," Merlin murmured back, moaning when Arthur's delighted growl hummed through him, their tongues reaching for each other at the same time. "Gods, yes," he repeated, diving in deeper, claiming everything that was _his_ , would always _be_ his.

Arthur didn't hesitate in lifting his lover- his _betrothed_ , and didn't _that_ word send shivers to every part of him!- and moving them, ignoring the splash of cold water against his calves. He continued to taste, continued to explore, even as he gently laid the younger man on the sand.

For a moment, he understood how it must feel to be so small a container for such overwhelming emotion. Everything in him felt it would explode with the joy and love he was trying to contain. He nipped at the swan like throat that arched for him, exposing more of itself, begging for his touch.

"Mark me, Arthur," Merlin moaned. "Show them all who I belong to."

"Gods, Merlin!" Growling, Arthur's hips bucked involuntarily at the words- nearly finishing him by themselves- his lips reached for the spot just under the sensitive earlobe even as his hand worked furiously to undo the laces of both their pants, feeling their joint arousal straining against the material. He sucked hard, feeling the blood coming to the surface, using his tongue to soothe it.

Once done, he worked to rid them both of the barrier between their skin, shuddering as Merlin's hips bucked into his when he bit his way across the delicate collar bone, letting his tongue dip into the small hollow beneath the bobbing apple, flicking it lightly, before using his lips to apply a hard suction.

"Arthur! Ah, yes!" Merlin pushed his hips up, and Arthur cried out when that length slid easily against his girth, the small frame pressing up against his own as it moved, as if designed to be nowhere else but here, in his arms, built to respond to every bite, lick, tickle or suction his whim could devise. All for him. Arthur growled at the thought, biting hard on the thin shoulder, gentling it immediately with a flick on his tongue, driving his hips in the body beneath him that cried out, submitting completely to him, and only ever him.

"Merlin, I can't… I'm too close…" he groaned out when Merlin pushed up again, his head thrown back with lips parted at the pleasure of their sensitive skins clashing against each other. Sunlight hitting the sable hair made the sand in it glitter, those dark lashes of the closed eyes clashing against the porcelain skin. Arthur bowed his own neck to taste that magnificent canvas that responded to the lightest and heaviest of his touches.

"Oh gods," Merlin cried out, bucking again. He needed more! "Now, Arthur," he begged.

"No, Merlin…" Arthur shook his head. For all the joy in his heart, he wouldn't hurt his lover. "No oil."

"Don't care." Merlin rammed his shaft against Arthur's, trying to impress his needs through it, shuddering as Arthur responded automatically in kind, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was deliciously good, but he needed so much more! "Please!"

Sweeping the pearl from his own tip, Arthur reached up with his stained finger, dragging it lightly across the begging lips, thrusting harder when Merlin's tongue darted out to taste him, then took his finger into his mouth, sucking at it, working it with his tongue much as Arthur knew that talented mouth could work his shaft.

"Oh Merlin, my love, you are glorious!" Arthur panted, moving his other hand to the puckered entrance. He was surprised to feel just how ready his lover was, easily slipping his fingers in one at a time. He worked it, even as his eyes stayed glued to the visual of his lover working his finger. He cried out when Merlin sucked particularly hard in response to his own hard press against that secret spot inside the warmth of his lovers body, found for some odd reason the sensations traveled through his entire body.

He pressed again, feeling the muted cry that translated from his finger to his shaft, transfixed as Merlin arched, never releasing his finger. By the gods it was too much! He lined himself up, crooked his fingers- hard- expertly replacing his fingers with his member even as Merlin finally released his finger to scream his bliss.

Despite the lack of oil, Arthur sank in easily, Merlin's body opening to him like welcoming him home. "Gods, Merlin," Arthur moaned, taking a moment to try and gain control.

"Reach for it, Arthur," Merlin gasped out, already moving his hips against the fullness inside him, impatient for the heights he knew Arthur could drive his body to.

"No…" Arthur shook his head. "It hurt you… AH! Merlin! Yes!... not enough control…"

"I trust it, Arthur," Merlin panted. "I trust you. Reach for the Bond!" he commanded.

Almost as if responding to his tone, the Bond leapt up in Arthur, and he cried out as Merlin's ecstasy combined with his own. Too much! He moved now, thrusting hard, feeling the Bond wrap around them both, felt himself becoming almost one with the fey creature underneath him. He felt his eyes burn with it even as he changed his angle, driving more pleasure from the body that he was working.

"Deeper, Arthur," Merlin panted. "Go deeper."

"Merlin, no…"

"Take all of me, my King, my love… you won't hurt me…" Merlin cried out as Arthur increased his pace, overwhelmed with the combined physical and emotional connection. He drank it all in, let it wash over him. Willingly, he pushed his magic toward it, screaming when Arthur hit that spot inside him at the same time as the Bond eagerly took all he was offering, lighting up every one of his nerves. "Yes, oh yes… Arthur!"

Arthur gasped as he slipped further into the Bond, felt his eyes blacken, narrowing his vision to seeing only the bright soul and power he was a part of, could see the pulses of pleasure as they made their way through the body. Reaching the core of it, he wrapped himself around it, hid nothing, exposed everything, gave all he was to it.

There… he could see the break in his shields, even as he felt how close the younger man was. He moved faster, yelling out when he felt it vibrate into the Bond. They were so close to that edge… he had to fix it… oh gods…

"ARTHUR!" Merlin screamed, stuttering in his pace to keep up even as that exquisite pleasure burned on the edge of agony. Without hesitation, Arthur reached for the leaking shaft, encasing in it a hand that moved quickly in time with his thrusts, pumping fast and furious to keep up with his own pace.

The Bond exploded into waves even as Merlin's muscles clamped and rippled around him, the body arching up against him, pressing into him as ropes of essence were felt on his hand. Arthur's deep bellow of achievement mixed with Merlin's as he pressed in, spilling deep into the body even while the Bond poured himself into that soul.

He felt as the waves moved out from the core, felt it as they settled into the cracks in the shields he had previously made, felt as they healed everything they touched, rebuilt and strengthened what he had damaged. He gasped, feeling his own body shuddering in response as they kept coming, kept washing over them, pushing them both beyond the limits of their physical bodies.

When at last they settled, both men panting for breath, Arthur released the Bond, slowly easing out of it and the body of his lover at the same time. His vision returning to normal to watch the final convulsions of pleasure of his betrothed. He leaned over, grabbing those lips, determined to catch the breath that came from them, tasting himself on the tongue that reached back for him.

Slowly, Merlin relaxed in his arms, his lips moving less, and Arthur pulled back, using one hand to brush sweat soaked bangs from his brow. "You are a wonder, Love," Arthur breathed out, lightly brushing those lips again. He felt Merlin's body relaxing to slack in his arms, and concern flared in him. "Are you alright?"

Merlin nodded, his eyes fluttering. "You did it," he whispered, and Arthur could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "The energy is gone." He blinked. "So tired, suddenly."

Arthur moved then, twisting them around so that he was lying on the sand, providing a pillow as he pulled his sleepy lover over him. Merlin took only a moment to settle himself before the steadying rhythm of Arthur's heartbeat soothed him into sleep.

Arthur sighed happily, holding his lover securely to him. Merlin was always one to sleep afterwards, especially if Arthur had pushed him to his limits- which the King took great pleasure in doing as often as possible. Added to that days without proper sleep, the fights, their battle, the binding spell, the release of his contained magic, and a two mile dead run… with the source of abundant and unnatural energy now contained, it didn't surprise him Merlin's body would demand its rest.

He was content to let him sleep for now. He watched the white clouds drift across the mid-afternoon sky, taking the time to enjoy his lover's easy breathing against him. His betrothed. He was going to _marry_ the marvel in his arms. The miracle that would give him a son, something he'd never truly considered himself wanting beyond duty until he'd heard to words from Merlin's mouth.

Balinor, he silently named his son. A legacy to the powerful line that would make him possible.


	16. Chapter 16

"Arthur, we're going around in circles, admit it," Merlin panted, going down to one knee and throwing up an arm. Steel on steel rang out through the practice yard when Arthur's sword met his vambrace in a block. Using the power in his shoulder, he pushed at his arm, using his brace to shove the sword aside.

"If you'd decide to _fight_ instead of _dance_ , we might be getting further ahead," Arthur growled back, changing his stance. "It's like swinging a sword at a fly!"

"That's sort of the point. I can't compete with your strength, and you can't compete with my speed," Merlin chuckled, easily moving away from the upper swing Arthur tried to feint with.

Arthur was beginning to understand the truth of that as Merlin once again danced backwards out of the reach of his sword, moving so quickly that his burgundy tunic was nothing more than a flash of red in his peripheral vision. Sweat glistened on his skin- he'd decided to go shirtless to improve his speed and keep this a friendly sparring match- while Merlin still managed to look almost fresh, despite his mussed hair.

The young man was graceful in his movements, and Arthur would confess to being slightly distracted in his attraction. The special made thigh sheaths did incredible things against the tight black pants on the long legs of his lover. The dragons on the vambraces showed elegantly against the dark of Merlin's tunic that did nothing to hide the confidence in the way the younger man moved his arms, trusting in the power in his shoulders rather than his biceps.

"If the sun's moving right, you've got ten minutes to finish me off," Merlin grinned, ducking under Arthur's swing, twisting around, the tip of his blade connecting with Arthur's shoulder blade, barely grazing the skin. "Unless you choose to yield?"

" _How_ did you get so good at this without me knowing?" Arthur nodded, holding his hands up in defeat. "I'm really not sure how I feel about it." Except he did. That lithe grace dancing around him had been beautiful to watch. He could always respect the skills of another warrior, and that didn't change because this warrior happened to be his lover. On the contrary. To know this powerfully magical, fey creature could best him on the field and then submit wholly to him in the chambers was a rush he'd never experienced. He adjusted himself, his arousal all too clear, as he shook his head.

Merlin laughed, throwing his King his shirt. "Careful, you're getting close to having to admit Gwaine's a good teacher," he teased.

Arthur shuddered in mock horror. "Never. I'd rather give Leon the credit." He paused, frowning. "Why _did_ you never tell me?"

Merlin shrugged, embarrassed. "You've always called me a wimp, a coward, and useless. I didn't think you'd believe me if I told you I was actually good at something."

Arthur stopped, grabbing his lover's arm. "Merlin… I… you know I never meant any of those things? That was me trying to put my feelings for you in a little box. They've always had more to do with _my_ inadequacies than yours."

Merlin nodded, flashing his King a quick smile. "Of course."

Arthur didn't hesitate, using the arm he'd grabbed to spin the younger man into him, capturing his waist with his other arm, pinning the frame against him.

"I'll spend the rest of my life apologizing for how I treated you," Arthur murmured, "and still never come close to expressing how much I regret it."

"It's a part of who we were, Arthur, and it built the foundations for what we have now. I don't regret a second of it," Merlin reassured with a smile. He tried to move away but Arthur held him firmly. "Arthur, we're in the middle of the practice yard." It was empty for the moment, but someone could walk in any second. With so many soldiers about, it was a well used space.

"I don't care." He dove in, grabbing at Merlin's lips with his down, unable to stop his hand from tracing the elegant jaw line as it moved, mirroring his own. "I suppose I can adjust to not being able to take you apart with one blow," Arthur teased with a smile, referencing the first time they met.

Merlin grinned, feeling his lovers' arousal against him. Deciding to be a little cheeky, he kissed along Arthur's jaw, letting his body fully mold to that of his King, putting his lips to his ear. "I can _still_ take you apart with less than one," he purred sensually. Then he lowered his mouth and all at once, bit down on Arthur's pulse point, rolled his hips into Arthur's, and used his hand to tweak Arthur's nipple hard.

Arthur's eyes squeezed shut with the stimulation, automatically pulling Merlin closer to him, one hand on the back on his thigh, rolling back into those hips, and biting into his lover's shoulder to stifle his cry as he spilled in his trousers in response to the mixed sensations, Merlin's audacity, and the sensuality that suddenly seemed to pour off his lover. "Ah!"

"See?" Merlin whispered, shuddering himself as his King shook against him momentarily as he tried to hide his release. "And I didn't need a mace or magic to do it."

"I'm going to make you pay for that, Merlin," Arthur gasped, aggressively kissing his lover again, keeping him tight against him as he regained his balance.

"Likely- but not here, not now," Merlin answered with a grin, pulling back. "I suggest choosing your words more carefully in the future, my King. The blades aren't the only weapon I've gotten good with."

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

"I'm sorry, Gwen, I don't think it's a _terrible_ idea," Merlin defended. "You fancy him, he fancies you… it seems fairly simple to me."

Gwen snorted as she paced the chambers Merlin was sharing with Arthur. "That's easy for you to say. I doubt you even hesitated before agreeing to marry Arthur. You're already so sure of your feelings, of your love. It's different matter entirely, and there are political ramifications to this."

"Ah, but there are political ramifications of turning him down. Already your reputation grows as a fierce Battle Queen!" Merlin pointed out, sounding very proud of it. "Let Arthur handle the politics of it all. Do you fancy him or not?"

Arthur had spent most of his days trying to get delegates to agree to various terms. His decision to marry an Elder Prince of Dumnonia, as well as his public endorsement of Durstan's proposal to Gwen, had left them uneasy with the amount of favor being shown to the trade empire. The only calming factor had been his public declaration that he would be also marrying Princess Mithian as per the laws of Camelot and Nemeth. He had made it clear which marriage he, as a King and as a man, put more stock in. Merlin had felt sorrow with how quickly the other Kingdoms had been to agree that his marriage to the Nemeth Princess was by word only, accomplished solely to produce a legal heir. Still, she had the alliance she had paid so dearly for, and he had to respect the way she held her head high, working the various delegates to her advantage. She would be a strong Queen, he thought.

Now Arthur was trying to convince them to return to their homes, and have the leaders all meet in Camelot in several months time. Most were readily agreeing, since Camelot seemed to be the only neutral territory. Most had already begun to address Arthur as High King, though he'd made no formal announcement of accepting the position. Apparently hosting in what was obviously the new seat of true power made sense to them. The debate now was apparently the time. Some wanted more, some less. Arthur was going out of his mind trying to make it all come together. More and more Merlin sensed the itch in his King to return to his beloved Camelot.

Merlin, for one, was glad he wouldn't have to take up those duties again until they returned to Camelot, though he listened patiently and gave his advice when asked. Soothed his angry King when he came raging back from another useless meeting. He wished he could help more, but with his ties to Dumnonia, an already favored Kingdom in this alliance, it created less problems for Arthur if he stayed out of it.

"I think I more than fancy him," Gwen confessed to him. "We've grown quite close over the last year. I missed him when he returned to Dumnonia for those months after the Banishment."

"I really don't understand, then."

"He's a Prince!" Gwen sputtered. "A real one."

"You're a Queen!" Merlin shot back. "Or should I let you order the guards to arrest me to prove it?" he teased, referring back to a time when she had convinced him she was the Queen she was destined to be. "Arthur has no intention of letting any woman he marries take that throne from you, Gwen," Merlin reassured. "The people know you, love you. He won't take that away from them. I promise you, the terms of his marriage to Mithian are being very carefully put together, and he won't pass them until you approve them. You know that."

She shot him a hesitant look. "That's a part of it. What if I don't want to be Queen?"

"Then Arthur would let you go with his blessing and a smile to hide his broken heart," Merlin answered with a sad smile. "He- _we_ \- want you to be happy, whether that's as Queen, or just Lady Gwen."

"I love the people of Camelot, but if I marry… I may have to leave. I don't want to leave my home."

"Listen to me, Gwen, Durstan loves you. You told me once it was rare to find that love even once in a lifetime. You've found it _twice_. Don't throw that away for details that can be worked out in a contract!" Merlin urged. "Durstan has already assured Arthur he has no wish to take a throne- Camelot's OR Dumnonia's. If you ask for the moon that man will find a way to put it on a chain around your neck. Could you really walk away from this second chance?"

Gwen sat beside him on the bed. "You really think I should say yes?"

"I really think you should do whatever will make you happy," he answered instantly.

"There are worse thoughts than having you as a Brother in Law," Gwen giggled. Then she sighed. "I don't know what to do, Merlin."

"When you look to your future, Gwen, do you still see Lance?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, blinking back tears. "No. I haven't for some time. It breaks my heart."

"Hey," Merlin pulled her into a hug. "Remember what we talked about? He lived for your smile. Everything in me, whether simple mortal man or all powerful warlock, believes Lance sent Durstan to you. It's hard not to smile back at a man who never seems to stop," he teased.

"That's true," Gwen laughed, wiping her tears as she pulled back.

He sighed. "I remember once that Lance thought you were in love with Arthur. He was prepared to walk away that night, after Arthur rescued you from Hengist. He loved you so much, that seeing you happy meant more to him than his own heartbreak." He cleared his throat. "Thankfully, I was there to set him straight, but the gesture was there."

Gwen smiled sadly at him. "That time must have hurt you, deeply," she apologized. "We were so confused."

Merlin smiled gently at her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "You both needed to go through that, I think. To see where your hearts truly were. I wouldn't begrudge either of you for misunderstanding your connection to each other. The love between you now is so much more, but only time could gift you that. Of course, that's easy to say _now,_ " he chuckled. "Arthur was a miserable prat for months. I'll tell you honestly, if it had gone on much longer I would have dumped him on your doorstep and run for Ealdor as fast as my legs could take me."

Gwen laughed. "You don't mean that. A part of you loved him, even then."

"I did. And yet I still _would_ have done it," Merlin insisted. "He was _that_ miserable."

"And _you_ were just such a charm in your jealousy," Arthur drawled from the doorway, having picked up the last part of the conversation. "You put worms in my porridge, itching powder on my small clothes, you cut a hole in the big toe of every stocking I owned… am I forgetting anything?" he asked as he sat down beside Gwen.

"He also put green dye in your bathwater," Gwen added, laughing. "You were green for weeks."

"And I mixed up the keys on your key ring, hid your favorite sword, and gave you a potion that gave you gas," Merlin added, smirking.

"Ah yes," Arthur answered dryly. "How could I forget? With friends like you, who needs enemies?" Arthur growled. He threw his arm over both their shoulders, pulling them all to lay flat on the bed so that Gwen was between the two men. "Ahhhh… gods I needed that. Nemeth chairs are hard on the back," he groaned.

"That's because you're getting old," Merlin teased.

"As if you're getting any younger, _Mer_ lin," Arthur shot back. Which was true enough... it seemed he was forever destined to keep the delicate features of his sixteen year old self.

"Alas, it's true... the only real beauty left in the world is in the blossoming flower that is our Lady Gwen," Merlin sighed dramatically. He winced when that 'flower' punched him hard in the shoulder. "Ow."

"So, what were we gossiping about that led to _that_ particular trip down memory lane?"

"Lancelot," Gwen answered softly.

Arthur closed his eyes, putting a hand over his chest. "He is dearly missed. These days especially. He would have been so proud of you, Gwen, for pulling together the allies. He'd have spent the entire victory feast telling us all that we should have just sent you in to box the Saxons ears until they saw sense." He paused. "He'd likely have been right, too."

"Gaius would have been sitting there arching that eyebrow at him," Gwen chuckled, imitating the dreaded Eyebrow of Doom. "For daring so ridiculous a suggestion."

Merlin laughed. "It's true! Then he would have offered one of those awful made up proverbs he used to quote."

"I _knew_ he made them up!" Arthur choked out. "I tried to call his bluff, I remember, and he made me and Morgana spend an entire in the archives looking to prove that it _didn'_ t exist. Morgana was so furious with him she complained to my father. Uther, simply asked Gaius if he had a good reason. Yes was sufficient to send us back to the dust." Arthur laughed, grinning as he shook his head. "She outsmarted old Gaius that day, in the end."

"I can imagine her temper as a youth," Gwen smiled. "It's easier, to remember her that way."

They all three laughed quietly, lost for a moment in their memories of their good friends.

"Durstan proposed," Gwen blurted out, turning her face toward Arthur. "Though I suspect you already knew that, since you did give your blessing."

"I gave him my blessing to _court_ you," Arthur corrected. "I didn't know he'd jump right to marriage!" Not that he was the least bit surprised. He turned on his side, holding his head up with elbow. "Do you love him?"

"I do."

"Then you know I'll do whatever I can to make this work for you. Shout it, whisper it, dare even to breathe it, and it's yours," Arthur offered seriously, but with a hint of trepidation. "Even if... even if it takes you from us... it's yours."

"I want to stay in Camelot, as Queen Regent… mpphh.." she was abruptly cut off as Arthur kissed her, whooping in joy. When he pulled back, his eyes were dancing, and his smile was brilliant enough to grow crops.

Gwen blushed, looking worriedly over at Merlin. Her friend merely arched an eyebrow at her. "See? Told you so!" He stabbed a finger at Arthur. "You, however, cheater, kisser of women, are in trouble."

Gwen screamed with laughter when Merlin launched himself over her to tackle his lover, which somehow turned into them tickling her. Which of course meant they had to gang up on Arthur- the King's bellow of laughter that came from deep within echoed throughout the room.

Laughter rang through the chamber, into the halls, moving like a soothing balm across all those it touched.

Through the years they'd lost dear friends, loved ones, watched beloved hearts turn black with hatred, been betrayed by those closest to them, fought battles that had destroyed them utterly and completely. They had suffered, mourned, grieved and moved forward even while hunched in pain. The weight of their destinies had crushed them all, at various points.

And so when true laughter rang out for the first time in almost a decade, it was cherished, it was pure and carried its own special kind of magic. They had built friendships forged in fire, they had tempered their love with layered steel cores. They had triumphed when they should have fallen to darkness. Whenever one fell, the others were there to pick up the fallen sword, to carry on the battle in their name. Memories of laughing faces, of times spent together, kept them strong and helped to balance the memories that brought tears. They knew, in their hearts, that those lost would forever stand with them, still side by side, even if they couldn't see them. They carried them closely, those they had loved, and who had loved them, so fiercely.

Not all who had taken this road with them had seen its destination, but the future they had helped build remained now for those left to journey on to write themselves. Albion had been born, the dream they had fought for achieved. Through the laughter that rang out in the room from three friends, the last standing from those who had begun this adventure together, they gave the gift of peace to those who could not be there with them, but who had found immortality in memory and stories to come.

The choice of one man had changed all their lives, had changed the destiny of a Kingdom, and the ending of a legend.


	17. Epilogue: Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And here we are, at the end of this adventure, my friends. For all those who made it with me, thank you. Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and your inspiration. To the silent readers, I hope you enjoyed this story. To those who reviewed, thank you for the strength you loaned me to continue. To those who followed and favorited, I can hope this tale has touched you in some small way. Love to all, and thank you for the warm welcome back into this world!
> 
> PS- So, while this is the end of the series as it was always intended to progress, I have made a small concession. There will be a Book 6, called Snapshots. This book will be a place for me to add stories that take place in this universe, but before this final chapter of the future. Just in case I ever feel like coming back to it. If there are any events you'd like to see written out, please don't hesitate to ask! I'll add it to the Snapshots Book!
> 
> MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN

Merlin smiled into the sunlight coming through the small window. Another beautiful day, he thought, though his mind was on other sunrises. The ones that streamed through the castle windows, waking their inhabitants with the light of a new day, not the jarring buzz of an alarm clock.

"You're remembering again," Arthur purred in his ear, wrapping arms around him that had lost none of their strength through the centuries. "You always have this look on your face when you do."

"I miss them," Merlin answered softly.

"So do I," Arthur agreed, placing his chin on a still thin shoulder. The food quality had changed so much- Arthur couldn't stand to eat anything from the modern day restaurants- but it never seemed to put any fat on on the lean frame of his husband. That they still trained daily with their choice of weapons helped keep them both fit. "Often."

Merlin nodded, soaking in the warmth of the body behind him, and the sunlight coming from the glass of the window. He breathed magic onto the window, displaying the images going through his mind to share them with the man who had loved as fiercely as he had.

He remembered his wedding day in Dumnonia, the celebrations and the laughter. The joy he had felt. He remembered for the hundreds of people crammed into a grand hall, he'd never taken his eyes from those of his lover, never stopped watching them dance and glow with a happiness he'd rarely seen from him. He remembered getting so drunk at Gwen and Durstan's wedding a week later Arthur had to carry him back to their chambers. Their joy had been as radiant as his own, and he hadn't been able to resist celebrating it with enthusiasm.

He remembered Arthur being crowned High King of Albion, remembered the peace that came with it, the acceptance of magic balanced against the justice of fair laws that everyone was subject to in the years that came afterwards. He remembered Arthur's deep grief when old Artemis had passed from the world.

He remembered the birth of their children, a fine golden son as expected, and a surprise magical dark haired little girl who delighted in mischief. The joy of their lives, though it came with the grief over the death of their mother, Queen Mithian, only a few short months after the birth of the twins from an illness no one could seem to cure. Now he knew it for cervical cancer, understood exactly what he had pushed aside the awful night of the Ritual. She'd died happy, in the end. In all these years, Arthur had never forgiven her, though he'd never said anything but kind words when their children asked about their mother as they grew. His own mother had been shielded from him, and he'd never allow that for his own. Still, on occasion he'd get raging drunk, remembering the night of the ritual, and those nights he was best left to his anger.

He remembered how proud he'd been the day little Ygraine had been crowned heir apparent for Nemeth, only five at the time and so bored by the ritual of it all. And when Balinor had won his first tournament- with dual long daggers! Their son had taken to them quite young, despite Arthur's continued insistence the sword was the more valiant weapon. Balinor never achieved Merlin's speed, not with his father's solid bulk as a frame, but he had a power in his strikes Merlin had never matched.

He remembered years of peace and prosperity for all the Kingdoms of Albion. Remembered the family he had gained with the royal family of Dumnonia, the happy years spending time in both Kingdoms, the brother he had gained in Durstan, the sister in Elloise. He remembered competing with Durstan as to who could worse spoil the little girl born shortly after he'd been poisoned. Elloise, of course, outshone them both in that department.

He remembered the day they realized that time had stopped touching Arthur. It had been an off-handed comment made by Ian, Merlin's manservant at the time, that had made him really look at his lover. He knew every line, every trace of that face, that body, by heart. None had changed since before the Allied Battle against the Saxons. That was the day they'd realized the Link had done so much more than link their deaths- the alteration that had been made during The Trials. What old Artemis had meant when he'd told Arthur he'd never walk his path alone, and that Merlin's destiny would be the ebb and flow of Life. Fifteen hundred years later, and Merlin could still pass for 20, while Arthur not a day over 30, their only signs of aging the experiences that had worn at tired souls, their still gold crowned eyes windows to all the great and terrible things they had seen in their time alive.

He remembered the day Balinor was crowned High King of Albion.

He remembered, with a tug on his heart, the day Gwen passed away. Prince Durstan a few years later. He remembered all their deaths. His mother, Leon, Percival, Elyan, and even the devil may care rogue, Gwaine. His old friend Kilgharrah had gently faded from the world of the living. That was the day Aithusa flew off, and had not been seen since, no matter how often he Called. He remembered the day he'd tried to call that ancient power to him, and found it wasn't there any longer. They had grieved their winged friends together.

He remembered the day he had gone to speak with the Lady of the Lake, his dear Freya, and there had been none there to answer. It was that day that Arthur had first discovered how much Merlin had actually cared for the girl, all he'd been ready to forsake to go with her. Never quite a secret between them, Arthur had simply never asked for details, and Merlin had never offered them.

He remembered the day he'd known, with every fiber of his being, that he could not watch his children pass. He remembered sobbing into Arthur's arms, remembered the whispered confession that it had been on his King's mind for some time as their children aged. Even Ygraine, for all her power, had obviously not inherited the immortality that was the destiny of her Fathers. Gray had come to their hair, lines graced their faces, and Arthur had stopped a grief stricken Merlin from taking his own life. That was the day they'd decided to leave Camelot, leave their home.

He remembered gathering their children, and their grandchildren, together for one night. He told them a grand tale of a secret warlock and a prat of a prince. He told of adventures and battles, of love and loss, of friendship and betrayal. Of a Link so strong that it would take these lovers, this King and his Consort Warlock, through time itself.

He remembered riding away from Camelot for the last time.

" _So," he threw out as they rode without any destination. "A farm?"_

_Arthur nodded, smiling, remembering. "A farm."_

He remembered living for years in the farthest corners they could reach, until eventually, civilization would catch up with them. He remembered as magic slowly faded from the land, seeping deep into the earth, as magical creatures either died off or went to a place where they could live in peace without the increasing noise that was mankind. His own magic, and the power Arthur wielded through the Bond, had never wavered, both increasing in strength as the years moved forward. Those with the talent continued to make their way in the world, described often as an extra sensory perception, a thing of evolution and science, rather than as the magic they knew it to be.

He remembered great battles, remembered the rebuilding of one civilization, only for it to again fall to blood and ash, watched another rise in its place. At first, they'd fought together, side by side, to keep the foreigners off their lands. But over time, they stopped, recognizing it as inevitable, and the two warriors- one of steel, the other of magic- were forced to admit it wasn't worth fighting for any more, wasn't worth the risk, since their immortality prevented death only by time- they could still be killed. More and more they faded from the world around them, creating their own.

He remembered when they had decided to board a ship to the new world. It had saddened them, but all that was Camelot was long gone by then, though their bloodlines still sat on thrones in today's monarchs.

They'd gone to a country that was now called Canada, found a quiet plot of land in what was now known as Alberta, and finally, at long last, built their farm. When it seemed civilization would get too close again, Arthur had gone out and bought all the surrounding plots. He let them stay forested, and to this day enjoyed hunting on them- always with his own weapons, never with guns. Neither of them had ever developed an appreciation for them. On horseback, it took about three days to go around the entirety of their property, a trip they often enjoyed, taking only a bedroll and meager supplies.

Gold had only increased in value over the centuries, and they'd always had plenty- especially once simple coffer keepers turned into a whole profession of bankers. They'd spread their wealth into various banks as they popped up, moving it around every 80 years or so. It made them laugh to keep one pouch of the actual gold coins that they'd brought from Camelot, though they had donated half of it the to British Museum.

They'd learned to hide their immortality, but lived every day as though it were their last. They had no idea how long it would last. They laughed often over the Arthurian legend, surprised sometimes with just wrong it all was, and equally surprised when they actually got some of it right. Those myths, too, had changed over time and it was always interesting to see the latest version. Merlin in particular liked to tease Arthur about the popular theory of him having been a Roman, snickering over the image of his golden god in one of the soldiers leather skirts.

For a lark, they'd gone to university to become historians, experts in the Arthurian era. That had lasted only until they'd unearthed Gwaine's sword, and Merlin had broken down sobbing right there on the site. After that, they had left staff in charge of the Farm, and traveled the world for some years. Merlin easily picked up any language he heard, and often found work as a translator, while Arthur remained the foremost expert in the Ancient Tongue, now called Irish Gaelic. The invention of the internet made keeping their secret easy on a professional level. They often found joy in touring the Renaissance Fairs, teaching their fighting styles, teaching how to make era authentic armor.

This farm, The King's Ground, stayed constant, however. They kept the large house up to code as it changed, but never changed the interior design. An odd quirk to any who had walked through the very modern farm down the long lane to find the castle that was an exact replica, though somewhat smaller since they had no need to host Court members, of the one Arthur had grown up in. Merlin's only concession had been installing indoor plumbing as soon as it had come about- and electricity. Reinforced with magic, the foundation and interior would never be subject to time. It was even filled with any genuine artifact they could access, and replica's of many others. If any ever found their way below the main floor, they would be shocked to see the tomb room of Camelot, which they had returned for when the City finally fell to raiders. It helped them feel closer to the ones they'd lost from that time, as Arthur had made sure not only his parents, Gaius, Hunith, but also the Knights, and even Ian, had been laid to rest in the royal tombs. Merlin went frequently down to talk to their children, though Arthur tended to avoid the place.

They dismissed the staff needed to run it every fifty years. Merlin used illusion magic to artificially age them- with grace, of course. Then they'd go on vacation, 'die', change their clothing style and dye their hair, and reintroduce themselves as sons, or grandsons. Always close family so the resemblance was rarely questioned. Arthur had developed quite the fetish whenever Merlin got something pierced, though tattoos had been strictly forbidden. As it was, Merlin never lost the habit of wearing gloves to cover his scarred hands, nor did he ever remove his shirt in public, always conscious of the inexplicable scars on his back, arms and chest.

"Would you change it, if you could?" Arthur asked him. He watched the images, lifting his hand to touch the faces of those he'd loved so dearly. This happened, every now and again. He was always grateful when it was to remember these that they'd loved. On occasion, his lover would wake, grabbing for him, shaking apart with the memories of all he'd once been during the battle with Morgana. One of Arthur's fears as he watched magic slip quietly into the earth had been that the power to reinforce those protections would go with it, and he'd lose his husband for good. He kissed that same shoulder, grateful that the Bond had thus far remained strong.

Merlin smiled, and shook his head. "No. Maybe, if I didn't have you…" he shivered. He'd have gone mad, he was sure. Likely long before he'd gathered the courage to leave Camelot. Or he would have succeeded in taking his life. Arthur had barely arrived in time.

Arthur tightened his hold. "Always here, Love. Right here," he soothed, knowing where his husband's mind had gone. He still remembered having lived that life, knew how dark it was. Despite the changes he'd made, the destiny he'd re-written, he'd never allowed those memories to leave him. They were reminders. He shuddered as he remembered how close he'd come to Merlin's decision that he couldn't bear the loss of their children.

Merlin jumped as the alarm clock buzzed to life. Growling, his eyes flashed gold, and it exploded. He heard his lover sigh against him. "Rebecca is starting to think I like her," Arthur grumbled. "In almost every week for a new alarm clock. She thinks it's an excuse to see her."

"So go to a different store," Merlin answered coolly, well aware of that particular shop keepers interest. Fifteen hundred years together had not lessened either man's tendencies of possessiveness and jealousy. They kept to themselves for the most part, only going into town when they needed supplies. They were known to be recluses, borderline hermits. Most knew they were married- they'd never made any secret of it- a fact that had caused quite a stir for what Merlin considered was the most ridiculous two centuries in history. "We don't need one anyway. You're always up when the sun hits you."

"We have slept in on occasion, especially if a certain warlock who shall remain nameless kept up me very late scaring the cows," Arthur teased. Centuries of making love to each other had not made them any quieter in the bedroom.

"I hate the damn thing. The staff know what they're about. This place practically runs itself," Merlin answered grumpily.

"Are you okay? Memory lane doesn't usually tend to leave you in a good place," Arthur asked, using a hand to rub the bare arm. Despite where he knew these days took them, he always loved waking up to the sight of his still glorious lover bathed in sunlight. He never tired of reaching for that skin, for that physical sensation. He wanted to ground his husband, knowing a day like this would mean vicious nightmares for weeks to come. It broke his heart, but Merlin had never stopped having them, though they'd had many happy times in their years since that Final Battle.

Merlin sighed apologetically. "Sorry. They deserve to be remembered. Even if it breaks my heart."

Arthur chuckled, nuzzling the throat that had never once, in all these years, ceased to entice him. With all his heart, he'd kept that promise, that Merlin would always be enough for him. "Will you _ever_ get over this whole sacrifice yourself for the greater good thing?"

Merlin laughed. "Probably not."

"All right then, did I ever tell you about the time Gwaine dragged me, Leon and Lancelot into the tavern?"

Merlin let the words flow over him, soothe the parts of his soul that were hurting. Arthur _had_ told him, but he never got tired of hearing the stories. Never stopped appreciating when his husband made the effort to make sure he remembered the happy memories too.

Someday, he might tell his King that remembering the laughter also made him remember the tears.

But not today. Today, he leaned back, taking in the scent of his constant companion, his strength and his love, that had somehow never wavered through the centuries, never offered less than all he was.

And together, they braved to give life to those long dead heroes from a land of myth, and a time of magic, when the destiny of a great kingdom rested on the shoulders of a young boy...


End file.
